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bowieandqueen11 · 7 months

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Love For You / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I just found your ao3 account a few days ago and your writing style is excellent! Legitimately some of the most visual and evocative writing I've seen on that website, and I've been devouring your izzy hands fics since I caught up on season two! Can I request another izzy x reader post-amputation and just the reader caring for him while he's pining hard? Maybe the reader has some medical experience so they've been able to help him a little better than the rest of the crew, making sure he's taking time to heal in a difficult moment (physically as well as emotionally, god knows he needs that.) Letting him know he's loved and him realizing he hasn't...heard someone say that to him or treat him this gently in a long time

Thank you so much that's so kind of you to say, it's so lovely people finding me from AO3!! Honestly one of the best feelings, and goodness knows Izzy needs this :)

Okay so I haven't been able to watch the new season so all my knowledge is coming from Tumblr gifs and posts, so I really hope this isn't too ooc my lovely!! Anyway let's get this man some comfort!

I spent all day writing this, so all comments are much appreciated! Thank you! :)

Warning: mentions of blood/injury, mentions of physical abuse, mention of smoking, kissing and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Something monstrous seemed to be creeping up the shuddering walls.

No, it wasn't the stifling silence that had seemed to envelop those of Blackbeard's crew still left, hiding their heads between their legs and closing their eyes as they felt the quicksand drain out through the fingers. Nor was it the creaking organ snore of Wee John thrumming up the timber; the rest of your usually upbeat crew grew despondent as they wracked their brains together and came up with a way to save you all from imminent demise, having flopped onto their sides and fallen into fitful sleeps just before sunset. Sadly it wasn't even the feel of Lucius' finger stroking yours through the cold grates of your jail, his smile lost and forlorn as he thumped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes as well, feeling even more entrapped in himself than you did.

It was, in fact, the hard glare Izzy Hands was shooting into the side of your face. He hadn't spoken a word since Stede had left, choosing instead to let out the odd sniffle from his corner bucket and busy himself by watching you like a man possessed: like something wild, something smothering itself in the shadows to stop its howling heart from devouring the light around itself. From tearing his dagger out of his scabbard and devouring his heart himself with clawed hooks. He looked ghastly, and he looked gargantuan as the life seemed to convulse within him, leeching out and darting its tongue around the creaking wood until it filled up the room and began to fill your heart up with a hope you thought had been lost weeks ago.

He looked beautiful and proud and defeated and assured in spite of it all, and you were finally beginning to understand why Zheng Yi Sao had locked him away in this cage.

And in a way, it terrified you that this cataclysmic, lucent shadow was creeping its merry way straight for you.

The tenebrosity was quickly broken by Izzy's shining eyes gliding across the bridge of your nose to land instead on your top lip. He wasn't entirely sure why exactly he was feeling so timid. It wasn't as if Frenchie was still awake, as he was too busy hugging his free arm around the remaining muscle of Izzy's thigh and burying his head into the muscle with a soft murmur of contentment. Yet the idea of being caught leering at you like a dopey boy was enough to make him judder with embarrassment, and enough to send Frenchie's head keeling sideways so his lips were rammed up against his trousers.

Thankfully, it was exactly Frenchie's floppy head that gave away the fact that he was fast asleep, and allowed you to steal Izzy away for yourself. With a gentle lift, you were quick to replace your friend's cheek with your own hand, giving the side of Izzy's thigh a reassuring squeeze.

'You look like you're bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders', you sighed as you took in Izzy's harrowing form. It wasn't his paleness that worried you, or the redness that cracked and splintered around his irises. It was the way he was watching you, eyes trained steadily on your face for the last hour and a half, as if he were doing his best to memorise everything he could before he ran out of time. As if he would never have the chance to look at you again.

The edges of his lips curled up, and he thumped his head back against the wall. 'Me? I'm feeling fucking fantastic. Never been better. Why do you ask?'

'Well', you began as softly as you could, straining to reach the vials in your hip knapsack to retrieve some salve for the scarring that had begun to pucker around his skin. 'We are about to be executed. I guess I just wanted you to know this is a safe space to let it all out before we are. A confessional of sorts, if a little makeshift.'

He wet his bottom lip as his eyes darted down to you, confused.

You pointedly looked him in the eyes, before unscrewing the vial and dipping your pointer finger in. Making sure he didn't seem too uncomfortable, you leant forwards as innocuously as you could, trying not to startle him anymore than he already had been. With a swipe, you began to rub the herb mixture around the sore looking welts left around his cut leg, making a point to run your fingertips soothingly over the goose-bumps that began to rise at the feel of you against him.

'I wanted you to know- to know that you're always safe around your crew.' You did your best not to let your voice tremble, no matter how much your throat tried to choke you. You turned your head back down to his leg, trying to hide the fact that your mouth was crumpling in on itself.

He winced as your hand brushed against a tender point, and you ran the back of your knuckles over his skin in apology. He felt like he was burning alive: a fire blazing so furiously in the pit of his stomach he was sure it was gushing out, swinging around the room and warning everyone of his impending falter as he fell upon the crags of your fingers below. He had no idea how, in all the seas, you couldn't possibly see how ecstatically devastated he was to be sitting here with you.

He didn't mind dying. He wasn't scared of it. As long as you were there to enhalo his misty light in the end. As long as you were there to love him until his last breath. As long as, no matter what form he took, you were still enclosed around his heart.

'Who says I have anything to confess?', he glanced at you with heavy eyelashes, eyes bleary but sharp as he started straight into your soul. I don't have to confess it, he thought, it's so fucking painfully obvious.

How could he confess something so inexplicable? Something that wrapped around all of his bones, that wormed its way into parts of himself he thought long numb: long lost. How could someone ever articulate the feeling of life itself? It was insurmountable, far too transcendent, too impetuous for mortals to to unsnarl into words.

'Oh Izzy', you said, mouth falling into a frown at the way his hips reflexively bucked up at the feel of a new cream being slathered around his leg to try and numb the pain. He moaned, trying to mask the sound by clenching his fist into his mouth and biting desperately into his knuckles. One more touch, and he was about to fall apart. 'Your eyes are drowning in so many regrets I can barely see the stars in them anymore.'

He huffed out a laugh, looking at you with incredulous, wild eyes. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he let it rest, still clenched, by his quivering chin. 'Not in my eyes. You never could. That's not possible. Not me.'

'I could.' You were quick to reply. 'I always could. You're our guiding light, Israel Hands.'

Oh boy, if he wasn't devastated before he sure was now. His face fell immediately, and for a moment you felt your heart ache with a sore regret at the silvery tears that began to cloud in the crinkles of his eyes. But then he does something that surprised even you.

The way he opened his legs up was almost miniscule: too small for anyone who didn't know this man's quirks and intricacies and giveaways to notice, but a well aimed shot that sent a rush of heat prickling up your cheeks. Before he changed his mind and retreated into himself again, you were quick to scoot your backside over and come to rest far too intimately between the tightening leather of his inner thighs.

'You can't be surprised that we care about you', he started after a moment of comfortable silence, leaning the side of your head to rest gingerly on his intact leg. 'That the whole crew has always cared about you. Look, someone even got you a mop-', you gestured to his side, trying to make him laugh before the sun rises, and thankfully you succeeded.

He shook his head out as if trying to refocus himself as his chuckle died out in his chest. He didn't want to laugh right now. He wanted to focus on the weight on his leg: on the feel of your nose brushing on the length of seam running up to his groin. He blinked back heavy tears that spread along his lashes, sniffling coarsely. He probably should laugh, he thought. He should be fucking howling, spitting, going rabid at the irony that the one thing he had been yearning his whole life was lying right there on his lap, and he only had a few hours left in his pathetic life to savour it.

'How are you doing, by the way? Seriously', you jolt your head up to watch him quizzically. He did his best not to meet your eye, choosing instead to stare at the black grains above Jim's slumped head. 'After, you know, everything that happened with Ed-'

'You don't need to worry about me', he sniffed, but his hand twitched as he lifted it up to rest on his thigh, just above the top of your head. 'It's my job to worry about all of you. Not the other way round.'

'When are you going to get it through your thick skull that we want to worry about you. This isn't some kind of weird mandate or self-preservation tactic on our part Izzy. You may be a fucking idiot, but you're our fucking idiot. Let us take care of you too, like you've been looking out for us.'

He squeezed his eyes shut, his head beginning to shake furiously enough to send his stray silver locks clambering over his eyes. He was glad for their cover, so he wouldn't have to see the way you had lurched forward: the way you were pleading with him with your eyes, as you rose onto your knees and pressed your hands firmly around his waist, just where the joint of his legs met the soft squish of his tummy.

'Don't you shake your head at me. We all know you've been trying to direct Blackbeard's anger your way. We do!' You cocked your head, trying to follow his face as he squirmed in your grasp. Losing your patience, you gripped his jaw with your thumb and pointer finger, directing Izzy's widening eyes back your way. 'We do, Izzy. We know what you've been doing for us. What you've been sacrificing. And I'm sorry - I'm sorry that none of this is fair. I'm sorry that any of this happened at all.'

One. Two. You tapped your finger a third time, your fingernail swirling over the fine nuances of the holster running over his sawed leg.

It had always been your little secret: a shared confidence, between you and Izzy. One tap. Two. Three on each other's arms after battles, three taps there on your shoulder before you went down to your bunk, three fleeting touches burning at the back of his spine to let him know that you were alright: to let him know that he was alright.

You only stopped when you heard a brisk inhale: a sharp whistle that broke through your indulgent repose and made Roach roll over. Thankfully, a moment later, the cook's arm was splayed out across the floor again, and his leg kicked out backwards with a swift jolt up poor Button's behind. Izzy, though. Izzy, despite the surprising tenderness of the moment, was almost smouldering. The muscle by the side of his femur began to writhe underneath just the point of your fingertip, the feeling of just your warmth making him feel too feeble. Too needy to even control the rest of his body; he desperately tried to reach out a hand to shove your shoulder back and push you away, but his mind was too busy swimming with the concentration of trying to remember how to inhale.

The sharp breaths he dragged in painfully were starting to worry you, as were the wracks of his spine as he seemed to writhe backwards and forwards, back arching off the wall before collapsing back down on itself painfully again.

He felt your hand clench around his back, guiding him to sit still again. You were close, far too close - your noses almost touching, as you took a risk and used your free hand to slowly.... god, so fucking slowly he felt like he was going to split in half. He looked like a wounded animal: something terrified of being hurt as his eyes stayed trained on your approaching fingers, face wary until your fingertips touched his hair and tucked it behind his ear.

And then he felt that warmth. That warmth against the shell of his ear. He bit down hard enough on his lip to draw blood, and for once, he was glad for the taste. It was comforting. Familiar. Deserved. He wasn't one for the fucking heartache of tenderness. And god, how his heart ached.

'Come on,' you nestled yourself between his legs again and perched your elbow up on his left leg. 'People must have cared about you before. Might as well get it all out in the open. Be honest with each other now.'

He paused, before the stubbornness wormed its way in again. 'No, they haven't-'

'Well, what about your parents? Your parents must have been kind. Besides, the crew obviously cares about you. I obviously care about you. Stop being so pig-headed.''

He startled you with a laugh: he seemed to choke on it, his teeth baring as he barked it out, yet he still couldn't seem to look at you quite yet. That's alright. You had an eternity left in these few hours.

Kindness?

He couldn't remember a time before joining Stede's crew that he had ever felt such a thing, let alone let it fester in the crevices of his ribcage until he felt the dreaded thing was going to claw its way out. Perhaps, if he let himself fester in the silence for a moment, an image of his mother would squirm its way out of his long repressed memories. Clawing and scratching and digging her pointed nails to dig her way out. No, his mother had never offered him a jot of comfort. She could stay buried in that coffin he had stuffed her down into, instead of rotting inside of him. He had enough barnacles to scrape off his body as it was.

It wasn't as if he had any surprisingly sweet memories of his life before. His mother had never been one for grace: her words always bit at his brain like a frenzied tempest, his actions never good enough. Once, when he was six years old, he had tottered up before the sun rose and followed his older brother down to the docks, trying to please his mother. Even so young, he had spent most of his years yearning to be seen as anything but the 'nuisance' or 'pest' his mother used to spit at his feet, and yearned to return with a line full of fish to please her. To help her with the chores that she always yammered his father had left her to rot with. Had left him. That he rotted away her youth. When he came slinking into the doorway, a nervous smile twitching at his ruddy cheeks, his mother had taken one look at the muddy, damp fringes of his trousers and had slapped him clean across the face for his troubles.

Another part of him remembered her warmth. The same that radiated off your palm as you spread your fingers across his knee; the way she would sometimes scutter into his bed at night, and he could smell the harsh sting of alcohol on her breath as she curled up and hugged him close against her chest. Of the way she would sometimes let him sit on her knee once the three of them had returned home after service, and she would brush back his growing hair and he would curl himself up to chase the stray ray of sunlight that glowed against her neck.

It had left him a Gordian mess of a man. Simultaneously spending his life seeking any kind of validation, any kind of affection, while his stubborn self-preservation did its best to push everyone away.And yet here you came, watching him with those sweet, sad eyes. Swinging the sword to undo him.

'I don't remember much about them', he replied curtly, but not unkindly. 'My father left us when I was young. I was... mainly left to my own devices.'

You nod slowly, letting his words thinking in. Letting the misery drenching every seething heave of his tongue wash over your head. 'Well', you began to rub your thumb in circles against his trousers, 'at least you have us here now. One good thing to add to the pile.'

There we go. The knot's slowly being undone.

You tried to smile, but the intensity of his gaze falling on you again unsettled you.

'You're right.' His voice was far too earnest for his own good. 'I have had one good thing in my life. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.'

You nearly jolted when you felt his hand smack down on top of yours. He had closed his eyes to try and hide himself from his discomfort, but his gloved fingers still slid between yours and squeezed despite himself. Once he was assured they were firmly intertwined: his own grasping tight enough to bust the leather at the stitching, he dared himself to finish his train of thought before he lost his nerve.

'I do... I do care about the crew. None of this was their fault, and they shouldn't have been fucking blamed for it. But I- I, I care about someone else far more than all of this twatty lot put together.'

It's a whisper into the darkness. A despairing yell of defiance against the solitude. A smothered light, long lingering and far longer forgotten. A spark of hope against the threat of ruination. It was a silver tear, glinting like starlight against his iris and falling with a content plop onto the back of your hand.

'I-I-', he stuttered out, clenching his teeth as he wills himself not to cry. 'I-'

The words refused to unlatch from his throat. Luckily, you were adept enough to notice the longing that drew a sad ache across his face.

'Izzy, I-'

'Let me finish', he stumbled out, his whole face now contorting as he struggled with the weight of it all. His bottom lip began to wobble against his will, face falling in on itself.

'I have-I have... love. For you. 'What I'm trying to say is'-, he shakes his head, chiding himself.

'Izzy, I know, it's alright. I know. I understand.' You grabbed tighter onto the back of your hand, enveloping it with your free one until his stopped shaking, begging him to realise you could see him.

'No-. No. If I don't say it now, I'm worried I never will.'

'Take your time, take your time. We have all the time in the world'. A sob finally gasped out from Izzy, chest heaving as he felt you draw his hands up towards your mouth. Still safe. Still warm. Still firmly cupped between your own, but the feel of your lips brushing against his knuckles was enough to send him reeling. The gentle peck that followed, though, was enough to finally let him break free.

A tentative finger reached out, checking for any signs of repulsion before landing awkwardly to point into the blade of your shoulder. He seemed to freeze: immobile marble frozen in fear as he seemed unaware as to what to next. After a few wary blinks, he clumsily spent a few seconds trying to manoeuvre the rest of his arm to cross across your back, before tugging your torso to lean closer towards him.

For a moment, it finally seems as if the world has skittered upright on his axis again. It felt normal. It felt right, feeling him grow comfortable with affection again as he melted, for the second time that week, into your hug. For his sake, as he burrowed his head into the pulse point of your neck until his stubble began to tickle your collar bone, you pretended not to hear the maimed whimpers that struggled past his closed lips.

The only time he moved was to raise his head up towards your nose, bumping it playfully against the tip of your own. Then another graze. A rub, and then another one, his eyes the whole time languidly drawn down to stare at your cupid's bow, until he slowly brought himself down to breathe unsteadily against your mouth. After a final moment of contemplation, he blinked placidly before closing his eyes and tilting his head to close the miniscule distance between the two of you.

His jaw was tense as you ran your finger down it, so busy trying to commit to his memory the pressure of your lips against his bottom one that he was forgetting to breath. But he didn't pull away. In fact, his hand clamped around your neck, digging almost painfully into your back as he stumblingly latched onto you, forcing himself further against your opening mouth. His hand found solace by cupping the back of your skull, chest squeezed against your breasts as he opened his lips and almost devoured you whole.

A loud 'awww!' erupted from your side, making the two of you jolt apart. The only problem was, Izzy's bottom lip had been rather firmly attached to yours. This meant that as you drew back, Izzy, in his stubborn unwillingness to let you go, let his bottom lip drag down along your inner mouth until a line of saliva connected your bottom lips, which only made the person the other side of the brig giggle even louder.

'You guys are cute', Black Pete yawned with a wakening stretch.

'Yes!', Roach chimed in as he teddy bear rolled his lanky legs round in front of him. 'I swear!', he continues, ostentatiously wiping his finger underneath his eye, 'I must be crying! I'm two seconds away from going up there and commencing our escape myself.'

With a tilt of your head that hit Izzy's chin, you looked at the cook incredulously. Izzy only gazed down at you past the crook of his nose, wonderstruck as the he let the words wash over his head.

'You. You really think you can take on all those very competent pirates up there.'

'Of course!'

'You cried for twenty minutes earlier about soup!'

Roach waved his hand unconvincingly in front of his face. 'Broth, it was broth! But I'm great with knives, remember! I have one hidden in my underwear right now!'

'Why... why is it in your underwear?', Oluwande piped in as he rested his head on the side of a barrel.

'Yeah, you weren't captured', Archie added, shuffling her own head off Jim's shoulder to look out past the bars. 'Why isn't it, I don't know, in your pocket or something.'

Even though Roach has opened his mouth to answer, his train of thought is broken by the tired grumble of another one of your friends. 'I hate to admit it, but that was actually very sweet', Lucius chimed in, twisting his lips into a shit-eating grin as he eyed the both of you up, another cigarette now firmly tucked in and freshly lit between his fingers as he took a drag.

'Is everyone on this fucking boat awake?!', Izzy cried, wrapping a hand protectively around your shoulder joint.

You snorted, burying your head protectively against the soft skin of his bellybutton. The sound of the crew beginning to argue with an increasingly impatient Izzy was like music to your ears; the monster was beginning to retreat.

No longer did it hang and shake and pierce the walls with its talons until it bled umbras. It retreated: chased away by the comely love of your crew. Of your family. Of the man who held you protectively against him, blinding you with his tender love.

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carmyboobear · 3 months

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ALEXITHYMIA CH 1: onions, weed, and pizza

Roommate AU: Carmy Berzatto x Reader (R18)

ao3 link ch 2 ch 3 ch 4

Summary: Carmy can’t put into words how he feels about his roommate. It’s only been a couple months, but here he is looking forward to going home and sharing a smoke with them. That’s all it is, though. There are no underlying feelings, none at all, even if everyone around him has something to say about it.

Or: Carmy is repressed as ever, but through the combined power of vulnerability, weed, and the horny, Carmy too can find love.

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, cursing, yearning, repression, SO MUCH REPRESSION, angst, mental illness, canon-typical imagery, unresolved tension, for now, virgin carmy, use of weed, alcohol, all that good stuff, carmy character study, eventual smut, gender neutral reader, nonbinary reader, up to you

A/N: HI I've never posted fic on tumblr before but i deeply love Carmy...please enjoy!!!

CHAPTER 1: onions, weed, and pizza

It always stays the same.

This is the thought that Carmy has when he wakes up, gasping for a chance to just catch his breath and keep it. It’s a kitchen knife twisting like a lock and key in his chest. It fits just right, as all awful and familiar things seem to do.

No matter how many times he wakes up, he’s never anywhere different. That drowning feeling suffocates him in his sleep and follows dutifully into his waking hours. He can’t remember when that haunting started, only that it’s always been with him.

He hates feeling like a drifter, like he’s lost (even though he is both of those things), so he picks a goal and runs after it like a monster. He’s an animal, hunting and working and bleeding until he fucking makes it work , because that’s who he is, and that’s who he’s always been. He can’t not make it work. Because if he can’t do it, then…then what was it all for?

What is he even for?

These are the thrilling thoughts that serve as the background music to the swirl of his cheap morning coffee, oils rotating in a slow circle. He thinks about getting a nicer brand next time he goes grocery shopping. But that would mean change. That would mean less money on the restaurant, too.

Yeah, so it tastes like shit, but it doesn’t matter. Even if it mattered once. Less and less matters to him these days.

Mornings in Chicago are not technically quiet by definition, but when compared to other times of day, they are. Especially when most of his day is spent in the kitchen wringing out his throat. It isn’t bad to have a quiet morning by normal means, but for him…

The quiet is dangerous.

It’s not silent, but it’s not enough. There’s distant beeping of impatient cars. The whirring sound of the old AC unit. He tries to listen to them, but his rampant thoughts nonetheless rise above them all, buzzing everywhere with nowhere to land.

A brief analysis of his thoughts reads as such:

Beef sandwiches eggs flour shipment Michael cigarettes smoking sore throat late shipment so tired not sleeping Michael Sugar Mom coffee tastes bad it’s too early my stomach hurts Michael fucking hates you Michael Michael Michael Michael Michael you piece of shit you fucking ki—

“Mornin’, Carmy.”

Until his roommate wakes up, that is.

When he moved back to Chicago, there was a fact, plain, simple, and unchanging. He wasn’t gonna make rent on his own, not with the restaurant. Not with everything. So maybe he didn’t need to deal with a new roommate, but it’s not like there was a choice. It seemed bearable, survivable enough.

He keeps waiting for the thing that’ll make him grit his teeth, make him regret not getting a place on his own, but it never comes. They’re easy to live with. It’s so easy, as a matter of fact, that it feels strange. The difficulty that he was so certainly expecting just isn’t there.

If anything, he looks forward to being at home. For someone who lives at work, that feeling is completely foreign.

They don’t steal his food (not that there’s much). Instead, they cook him food, leaving heated leftovers on the stove on late nights. In Carmy’s case, that’s most nights. They don’t bring over obnoxious company and keep him up with the noise. Rather, he basks in their company, and they make a ruckus between their laughter. Their presence doesn’t stifle him, it soothes him, just like the candle they leave lit in the kitchen for him when he comes home. They’re not just easy to live with, they’re good to live with, and that’s…

That’s been a hard adjustment, Carmy would say. It’s too much of a good thing that he’s not sure what to do with himself.

On those late nights, they’re usually fast asleep by the time he’s home. But as he sits and eats the leftovers they’ve kept for him, he wants to say something. Something about how a long time ago, there was once a Carmy who cooked for himself, who looked after himself, but that he’s not that Carmy anymore. That it doesn’t matter that he’s a five star chef and they’re just some guy in the kitchen, as they would put it, because he’s…

He’s grateful. Incredibly so.

And yet, the words will never come out. He feels the words tingling on his lips, but it feels scary. He can thank them as many times as he likes (which he does) but it will never capture what he’s really trying to say when he says thank you . There’s too many words, and it just can’t…it just can’t—

It always stays the same.

“You’re up early,” he says to them when they enter the room. It’s a rare sight to see them up at the early hours he frequents. He sees the morning drowsiness in their mussed hair and big t-shirt stained with hair dye. They yawn back at him, nose scrunching.

Cute , he thinks, and he stamps it down as soon as it flashes through his mind.

“Randomly woke up.” They fall into the empty seat next to him on the couch, and they rub at the crust around their eyes. “About to head off to work?”

“Unfortunately, yeah,” he replies. There’s a certain sentiment that lies on the tip of his tongue, something about how he wishes he could have a slow morning with them instead. Of course, he can’t voice it. He can’t even come close.

“The plague of the working man,” they sigh. “Well, I got an idea that might cheer you up.”

“...And that would be?”

“Let me paint you a beautiful picture,” they start. They clear their throat and gesture widely with their hands. He notices their chipped nail polish, the writing callus on their middle finger. “Imagine this—you come home from work, tired. You need to relax —something you need to do more often,” they add with a pointed look. No comment. “And I have dinner ready. Some sort of soup, pasta maybe. I need to check the fridge.” They pause with a yawn. “And before we eat, we smoke a big, fat joint.”

He snorts as they finish, unable to hold back a laugh.

“That’s a nice picture,” he admits. He doesn’t remember when he started smiling. “Y’know, I was wondering when the joint was gonna pop in.”

“You fucking know me, man,” they reply, blooming with his interest, his smile. Not that he can perceive that. “So? Thoughts? Haven’t done that in a while, right?”

“Right, right,” he echoes faintly. His mind is already sorting through the pile of tasks on the schedule. “Well, I gotta go over this new recipe with Marcus, today,” he mutters, partially under his breath. “But before that, ingredient orders. And those invoices before the end of the day—and that, that toilet guy was supposed to come today…I think?”

“Dude, I do like, one task, and the day’s over for me,” they say sympathetically, and the look on their face is so serious that Carmy struggles to hide his smile. “You’re crazy.”

“I, I’ve seen you do tasks,” he argues.

“Name one,” they argue back.

“You did two loads of laundry and did the dishes all before lunch time once,” he says, the memory clear and instant. “And when I woke up, you were vacuuming the whole place.” The immediacy surprises him, and it seems to surprise them, too.

“Damn, I said name one , but I guess I’m just that good!” They laugh, a breathy, exasperated sort of thing. “Well, point taken. Anyway, it sounds like you’re not gonna be home early tonight.”

“It is a Friday,” he says, “but…”

“But.”

“Can’t make promises I can’t keep,” he sighs, and shame melts over him like butter on a stainless steel pain. This isn’t anything new.

“I know, I know,” they say, gracious as ever. “It’s okay. Such is the life of a business owner, yeah?” He searches for some thinly veiled shred of disappointment, frustration in their expression, but he doesn’t. No matter how many times he lets them down, the explosion he’s waiting for never comes. They remain patient, collected through it all.

Says more about him than them, he supposes.

“Yeah,” he mutters, “such is the life.”

“C’est la fucking vie,” they say, and he laughs with a shake of his head.

It can feel strange to laugh. He worries that the lightness in his chest will expand like a balloon, and he’ll float away. It’s uncontrollable, foreign. It should be scary, how his emotions lead him when he’s around them, not the other way around, but it’s not.

It’s not scary to loosen up around them, and that’s the scary part. There are no words to describe why. All he can see is that the fear exists, stubborn and persistent. That fear is what makes him snap out of it, makes him look at the clock. He holds back a sigh.

“Time to go,” he mutters, and they nod.

“And time for me to go back to bed.” They salute him. “Best of luck with your day, brave soldier. And just shoot me a text if you do end up coming back early, ok?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try. And, thanks. You, you too,” he gets out. He stands up, readjusting the waistband of his pants. “I’ll, uh, see you later.”

“See you,” they say through a yawn, waving at him from where they’re lying down. They’ve taken his spot, sprawled across the couch, tangled hair flayed out on the pillows.

Cute , he thinks again, and hearing the thought in his brain makes him wanna panic.

He doesn’t wanna panic, doesn’t wanna think about it at all, so he nods, shuts the door, and heads out to work with a cigarette hastily lit in his mouth.

By the time it’s Carmy’s lunch break, he swears his vocal cords must have snapped by how tight he was wringing them.

The soreness has never stopped him from lighting a cig, though. As he stands outside in the back, finally forced to go on his 30, he smokes rather than eating. There’s a sandwich in his pocket, one that was bearing the brunt of test ingredients. He can feel the aluminum wrapping at his fingertips.

Eventually, he does eat, though, because he sees the way his hands are shaking when he flicks his lighter. He doesn’t wanna shake when he uses a knife, so he eats. He tastes it, but he doesn’t really taste it.

In truth, he wasn’t even planning on taking his lunch break at all. Most days, he forgets about it. The kitchen’s always busy, there’s always something missing, there’s always something that hasn’t been prepped that’s ruining everything, the lights in the hallways keep flickering because they need to fixed, Fak’s supposed to fix them, but he can’t, because Richie’s still out getting the replacement bulbs, the pile of papers on his desk are bigger than he remembers, he doesn’t have enough fucking time—

But then he’s in the middle of chopping an onion, and the cutting board slips. The half-chopped onion and its sliced offspring scatter on the floor with the cutting board. The sound of its fall draws Sydney in like a whip.

“You okay? Need a bandaid?” Sydney’s already kneeling by him, helping him pick the onions off the floor.

“I, I’m fine, didn’t drop the knife,” he explains, and it feels like an ocean current is rushing by his ears. “Fucking, I just—such a stupid fucking—” He sucks in a breath and goes silent.

His entire body feels tight, wound like a spring. He can barely fucking breathe.

“Hey.” Carmy turns his intense stare from the onions to Sydney, and when he sees her searching expression, he remembers himself. “Maybe you should go take your lunch break.”

“No, I’m fine, really,” he repeats, and he feels like he’s heard this before. From someone else. He can’t remember. Who was it? “The onions—we’re behind on onions—”

“I can handle onions for 30 minutes,” she interrupts, decisive and firm. “Seriously.”

Carmy’s about to say something, but then he’s looking at the onion half in his hand. His hand is shaking.

“Okay,” he sighs after a beat. “Okay, yeah. Sorry. For fucking up.”

“It happens. We all have our moments.” She shrugs. When he keeps standing there, she makes this shoo-ing motion with her hand. “Go on. Take your 30!”

So here he is, taking his lunch break a whole hour later than he’s supposed to. Although it’s better than most days where he doesn’t take it at all.

She wouldn’t have had to tell you to take a break if you didn’t fuck it all up, he thinks to himself, eyebrows knitted together. When the last time I’ve fucked up something so fucking easy?

He thinks about his dream from last night. A familiar sight of red fire and flames up to the ceiling, crackling so loud it sounded like screaming. The only good part is that when he woke up, he wasn’t at the stove burning his place down. It hasn’t happened at this apartment yet. Carmy hopes it never happens.

Just get it together, he thinks. He aggressively taps the ash out onto the decrepit ash tray they have in the back. It’s full. You’re supposed to be at this shit. So just be good.

“Cousin.” Carmy snaps his head up, and Richie’s at the door, stepping out. His presence yanks him out of his inner whirlpool, a quickly descending spiral. “Gimme one.”

Wordlessly, Carmy hands him a cigarette. Richie plucks it out of his hand like a flower.

“You had a lighter, but no cigarette?” Carmy comments, squinting at Richie pulling a busted up red lighter from his jean pocket.

“Shut up,” Richie mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. “Got the wrong damn light bulbs,” he explains unprompted.

“Alright,” Carmy sighs. He has so little energy that the frustration bypasses him completely, diving instantly into deflated acceptance. “Just return ‘em.”

“Can’t,” Richie says, and when Carmy gives him a look, he elaborates, “no receipt.”

“ Dude .” Carmy opens his mouth, but then he shuts it again. It’s just not worth it. “Thanks anyway, cousin. We’ll get it done.”

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me, you asshole. I didn’t do shit.” Richie nudges him, but like before, it’s not an angry thing. “Also, toilet guy’s not comin’ today.”

“The fuck? Why ?”

“Canceled,” he replies simply.

“Fucking hell,” Carmy mutters under his breath. “Did he say when he could reschedule?”

“Not yet.”

“Great.”

“Yep.” Richie tilts his head up, blowing out a slow stream of gray cigarette smoke. “Might as well wait for Fak to get his ass back in town at this rate.”

“I guess.” Carmy sighs. He thinks about all the things he still needs to do. “I dropped this onion I was chopping, earlier,” he mentions out of nowhere.

“Okay.” Richie gives him a look. “And? You bitches chop those things up faster than I could cut one in half.”

“I dropped it on the floor,” Carmy tries again, but Richie’s expression remains unchanged. “I never do shit like that.”

“Well, cousin, you did.” Carmy feels something in him deflate. “What’s the big deal?”

“Nevermind,” he replies, because he’s a coward. “Just—just forget it.”

Silence. The spark of a lighter.

“I’m gonna leave early,” Richie says, like he can just do that. Which…he can, Carmy supposes. “If no one’s gonna show up, what’s the point?” He slaps Carmy’s back, and Carmy doesn’t watch him as he heads back inside.

Guess all I need to do later is get rid of those papers on the desk , Carmy thinks to himself, idly moving the shortening cigarette between his lips. Then that’ll be it, I guess.

He doesn’t remember the last time he’s gone home early. It’s hard to even imagine what he does on days like those. Sleeping, probably. There’s nothing much else for him to do, not with how tired he is—

Shoot me a text, okay?

He hears them in the back of his head all of a sudden, and he remembers.

Oh, he remembers, hands moving to take out his phone. Almost forgot.

“Sorry to bother you, chef.” Carmy’s not sure how he didn’t hear the door opening. Marcus’ head pops out, nose covered in flour. “Just wanted to let you know that we’re gonna need more flour for tomorrow.”

“Order’s not gonna come for a couple days. I thought we had an extra bag left,” Carmy tries, but the guilty look on Marcus’ face explains it all.

“Dropped it,” Marcus grimaces, and Carmy’s already fucking over it.

“We’re all fucking up today, chef,” Carmy replies, and the day goes on.

. . . . .

It’s a strange, delightful miracle, but he manages to get out of the restaurant before the sun sets.

Considering their collective track record, the fact everyone was able to leave early was cosmic intervention. It helps that the toilet guy didn’t come, in an unfortunate way, but still. Standing outside of the restaurant in the evening like this feels…weird.

It’s not that Carmy’s complaining about a nice thing, it’s just that he wasn’t prepared to have anything good today.

Shower, dinner, and weed, he thinks absentmindedly on the way home. He juggles the three around in his brain. Just the thought of it feels like relaxing. A little.

With company , his brain helpfully adds, and his stomach squirms.

Self control, he thinks. He needs more self-control. He can’t just keep thinking of them so indulgently. He’s not allowed to think of them that way, because it’s not fair to them. Even if no matter how many times he chastises himself, it never works. Even if they remain in his brain like sun-spots in his vision. Even if it’s not his fault that he just can’t help it.

The thing is, though, it always is. Even when it’s not his fault, it actually is. Always.

You dropped that fucking onion , his brain helpfully adds for no particular reason. Fucking loser.

Fuck off , he thinks back as he approaches his front door. Predictably, it does not stop.

Just as his fingers search for his keys in all of his pockets, he hears something that makes him pause, hands stopped on his waist. It’s music, distant and muffled. They’re probably listening to music in the kitchen. He stands, trying to place the song, but he doesn’t recognize it.

He does recognize the voice that’s singing over the music, though.

Oh, he realizes. That’s them.

The way their voice clumsily layers over the music shouldn’t make him pause like this. He shouldn’t be doing this, standing in the doorway and listening rather than opening the door. The keys are in his hand. This, this is a breach of privacy, he tells himself, feeling a little dizzy with distress, he just needs to just—

There’s an abrupt, loud clang, and he shoves the door open.

Concern is on the tip of his tongue, but it dies there. The source of the noise lays face-down on the floor—a pan sitting in what seems to be tomato sauce. The matter next to it is what makes the words evaporate from his lips, like they were never there at all.

They’re kneeled down next to the pan, paper towels in hand, but all they’re wearing is an apron.

His mind blanks. He thinks he stops breathing. He’s never seen so much of their skin at once. He needs to look away, he thinks, but his eyes keep traveling, traveling, and traveling. It just happens so quickly. He doesn’t mean to look, he doesn’t, but they’re right there and he can see right down their—

“No, I—I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were coming back early!” They exclaim, quickly crossing their arms over their chest, and that’s what makes him tear his eyes away.

“I—I thought I texted you,” he says quickly, hot face turned to the side, “on my lunch—...“ He stops there, the memory reconstructing itself.

He forgot.

“It’s fine, I just feel bad about dinner, and, uh—okay, I’m just gonna change real quick, and then I’ll clean this up,” they reply, words rushing out. In the corner of his vision, he sees their bare legs dart to their room.

It seems wrong to just stand here staring at the tomato sauce slowly expand outwards on the floor, so he cleans it up. A couple paper towels later, he’s gotten most of it, and they’ve returned with a change of clothes.

“Sorry,” Carmy starts right as they also go “I’m sorry”. He pauses, meeting their eyes. It’s a lot easier now that they’re wearing leggings and a t-shirt as opposed to, well, nothing. Not to say he doesn’t appreciate the leggings.

“Sorry you had to see me like that,” they sigh. “I don’t—I don’t usually walk around the place naked, I just—I didn’t think you’d be back—“

“I should’ve texted,” he interrupts. He struggles to not think about them walking around the living room naked. “I forgot. But it, it’s fine. You’re fine. Really. Sorry for not texting.”

“Okay. Cool.” They exhale, a tired noise. “And it’s okay. It happens.” They look at the floor and make a sound of surprise. “Did you clean this up?” The look they give him has far too much gratitude, and it feels like a searing hot iron.

“Yeah, uh.” His hands are moving like he’s trying to explain something, but no words crop up. “Felt weird not to.”

“Well.” They smile, grateful. “Thank you. That was gonna be dinner, but…” They trail off, looking at the floor with a sour expression. “I fucked up.”

“It’s just that sort of day today,” Carmy mutters.

“Shitty day for you, too?”

“Yeah. Lots of shit went wrong.” Especially me, he thinks, but he doesn’t say it. “You?”

“Gotcha.” They shrug. “As for me—yeah. Really not my best day. It was just, uh, some family shit. You know how it is.”

Carmy makes a sound of acknowledgement. “That sucks.” He doesn’t know much about their family other than that they’re fairly shitty. It’s the same the other way around, too.

“It’s whatever,” they say, even though it really isn’t, and he knows it. They look at the floor one more time before looking up at him. “Do you just wanna order pizza or something?”

“Yeah, I do,” Carmy replies, his words coming out much more despondent than expected.

They settle on some pepperoni pizza from a place down the street. It’s a tried and true method—they deliver, it’s cheap, it’s oily, it’s cheesy, it’s good. Just talking about it makes Carmy taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“You can go and shower if you want. I’ll get the door when pizza comes,” they offer. They’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up.

“Okay, thanks.” Carmy pauses then, gears turning. He’s vaguely worried his memory is going to shit. “Did—did I just say I was gonna shower?”

“Oh, no, you didn’t, you just always shower when you get home from work, right?” They say it like it’s the weather, like it’s familiar, and that’s when Carmy realizes because it is. After several months of living together, of course they’ve picked up on his habits. It doesn’t need to be a thing. There’s no reason for it to be a thing.

“I do,” Carmy replies faintly, and for some reason, that’s all he can say.

“Thought so.” They look at him for just a moment, but it makes him feel like his body’s gone transparent. “I notice these things, you know.”

“Yeah.” Carmy looks at them when they turn back to the dishes, back facing him. “You do.”

He tells himself he’s not gonna think any harder about any of it. He’s not gonna think about the singing, the apron, the way they just notice these things, but then he does.

He’s in the shower, and he thinks about everything.

The water pressure is pathetic, but the warmth still feels nice. Between that and the sound of the running shower, it’s usually enough to quiet his thoughts. This time, though, it doesn’t. To his credit, he does try to think about anything else.

He thinks about work, because he always does. He thinks about flour, about onions, about knives. He thinks about the shampoo lathered in his hair. He thinks about those lightbulbs they still need to get. He thinks about food. He thinks about them. He thinks about pizza. He thinks about the way they sing when no one’s around. He thinks about the way they know him.

He thinks about them, knees on the floor only in a—

He thinks of bashing his head into the tile wall until he explodes.

“Shut the fuck up,” he whispers to himself, rivulets of hot water trailing down his forehead and dripping off his lips. “Shut the fuck up.”

The soreness is still present in his body, but that never quite goes away. He does feel a bit better now that he doesn’t have sweaty, sticky skin, though. It gets even better when he puts on a clean white t-shirt and his favorite sweatpants. It’s a nice surprise from his past self who did his laundry for him.

This amount of niceness is okay. This is what he’s used to—a shower and comfortable clothes when he’s home from work. That’s enough.

He steps out into the kitchen with a damp towel on his head. He finds them sitting by their one shitty window that opens, pizza box in front of them and joint lit. It casts an orange glow to mix with the golden light from the window.

“Hey, pizza’s here!” They slap their hand on the greasy cardboard box. “Just got this joint started for us, too.”

“So you weren’t gonna smoke it all on your own?” He doesn’t mean to tease, but he does. He slips into the seat across them, arms resting on the table they placed by the window.

“I couldn’t smoke this whole thing even if I wanted to,” they protest. “Besides, joints are made for sharing. Here—now you get to take it. Isn’t that nice?” With their elbow propped up on the pizza box, they hold up the joint to him. The lit end of it sizzles a bright orange, emitting a thin trail of smoke up to the ceiling.

“That is very, very nice,” Carmy agrees, taking it carefully from their fingers. Their face spreads into that contagious grin of theirs, and he’s far from immune. Sometimes he smiles so much around them that his face hurts, rusty and unused.

Sure, he can blame that on the weed, but if he’s being honest with himself (a rare occasion), that’s a complete lie. Obviously the weed lessens the tension, the stress that winds him up tight. It’s not just the weed that gets him to relax, though.

It’s them. There’s something disarming about their presence, something that makes him loose-lipped around them. Even when he’s sober, he finds himself feeling comfortable. He’s not quite sure how that happened, or if that’s ever happened. He supposes that isn’t a bad thing. Just something he’s noticed.

He wonders if they’ve noticed.

“You like the new rolling papers?” They tuck their knees under their chin, propping their feet up on the chair.

“Hm.” Carmy lowers the joint from his mouth to give it a good look. He rotates it around in his fingers. “Strawberry?”

“Yeah, it’s strawberry,” they confirm, poorly hiding the excitement in their demeanor. Not that they were trying to. “Can you taste it?”

He pulls from the joint, the edges of the paper sizzling red with the weed. It’s an even burn this time. He rolls his tongue around in his mouth after he exhales a cloud of smoke.

“Still no,” he decides after a beat, and they sigh.

“I don’t know why I ever get my hopes up.”

“I do taste something else in this, though.” He takes another hit, stews on it. “Lavender?”

“Shoulda known you would’ve gotten it on your first tray. Yeah, it’s lavender. I found some lying around.”

“You made this one pretty nice,” he observes, eyes tracing the shape of the joint. “Between the lavender and the new papers, I mean.”

“Well, y’know.” The smile on their face is small and shy. “I don’t smoke joints often, so I wanted to make it nice, and I, uh…”

They’re paused for so long that Carmy interjects.

“And?”

“And I—want that joint,” they finally say, outstretching their hand. Carmy has a strong feeling that they weren’t originally going to say that, but he hands over the joint nonetheless.

“Strain?” He asks curiously. He can feel the body high creeping up his shoulders, fluid and light.

“The strain that gets you high,” they reply with a grin.

“Oh, thank god,” Carmy sighs in relief, and the way that makes them laugh… It makes his chest tight.

“To actually answer your question, though—I dunno.” He likes watching the smoke drift from the tip of the joint as they talk, thin gray wisps in the air. “I think it’s a hybrid? Not sure if it’s more one way or not, though…”

“As long as it’s not the weed that puts you to bed.”

“Um…well, if you smoke enough of it, it can.”

They sit together like this for a while, just sitting and taking turns with the joint. It’s an easy, fluid exchange, flowing between them like smoke. No matter how much they both try to blow it out the window, it always comes back in. The smell of weed is strong in the air, earthy and pungent.

Although he would never describe himself as a talkative person, sitting stoned across from them makes the words come out. Sometimes, he thinks he likes himself better when he’s high—his mind isn’t running circles around itself, and the soreness of his body just floats away. He feels more like a human than a poor imitation of one like he usually does.

This weed smells kinda good, he thinks, and when they laugh, nose scrunched up, he realizes he said that out loud.

“That’s literally what I’ve been saying,” they agree, a bright grin lingering on their face. “That’s how you know you’re a fuckin’ stoner!”

“Feels weird to call myself a stoner,” he muses. He plucks the joint from their outstretched hand. It definitely looks shorter from when they started a moment ago. “But I guess…”

“If you like the smell of weed, you’re too far gone,” they say with a grave expression. “It’s so fucking over for you.”

“Fuck,” he whispers, equally as serious, and then they’re both bursting out into laughter. He likes the sound of their laugh—it’s unabashed, fills up the space.

“Dude, I’m high,” they whisper after they both calm down, like it’s some sort of secret, and Carmy can’t stop himself from laughing all over again. “Oh my god. Are you high?”

“I—I think I might fucking be,” he gets out between laughs, and that sparks them straight into another cackle of laughter. He’s not supposed to be able to make others laugh, he doesn’t even make himself laugh—but then he’ll say something, and they’re lit up with laughter.

“We need to eat this pizza now, ” they yell, projecting over their combined noise. They flip the pizza box open, and it smacks Carmy right in the face.

“Oh,” he reacts mildly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry—”

“It’s fine, it’s not like you punched me in the face,” he reasons, but their guilty expression persists. “It didn’t hurt, it’s just cardboard.”

“I’m sorry, I’m high,” they sigh apologetically.

“I know,” he replies with a little smile. His eyes drift down to the pepperoni pizza sitting before them, glorious in its perverse amount of oil. “So, we’re gonna eat this, right?”

“Oh my god, yes we are,” they gasp, and the moment is forgotten.

When he tears off a pizza slice, the cheese stretches in thin, gooey strings. They grab the slice adjacent to it to snap the strings in half, but they’re both leaned back in their chairs, pizzas in hand, and the cheese is still connected.

“This doesn’t seem right,” Carmy mutters, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “We should’ve just cut it.”

“How could we have predicted this?” They pull their pizza further back, and the string still doesn’t break. “Wow. I’m honestly impressed. I don’t think it’s ever been this insane before.”

“I think we’d remember.” He’s not sure why he’s still talking and not just running his finger across the string to break it.

“I think we would, too.” They snort, shaking their head. “This—this is some spaghetti type shit.”

“What? Spaghetti?” He’s genuinely perplexed.

“I—I mean like—that fucking disney movie. With the dogs.” They pause for a moment, mouth silently moving. “Fucking—lady and the, the truck—”

“Uh.” He has to hold back a laugh. “...The lady and the tramp?”

“ Holyshittheladyandthetramp ,” they blurt out in a rush, and the cheese string finally snaps in half. “…Well, I guess it’s not exactly like the lady and the tramp, then.” They take a large bite of their pizza, and it reminds Carmy exactly how hungry he is.

“You mean lady and the truck,” he corrects, and he can’t stop himself from smiling. Especially not with how good this hot pizza is, delightfully salty and greasy in his mouth.

“Shut up, I was trying,” they grunt through a mouthful of food.

“How exactly is this like the lady and the tramp, again? Or, uh, not like it?”

“Well, it was just like it, but then the string broke.” Somehow, they’re already halfway through their slice. “Could’ve been a beautiful spaghetti moment.”

“Spaghetti moment,” he echoes under his breath, holding back a laugh. “Remind me how that scene goes?”

They go quiet for a moment. It’s like he can see the gears turning in his head. If he’s being honest, he already remembers how that scene goes, but…he wants to hear them say it. He needs to hear them say it.

“Uh, well, they’re…eating spaghetti. The titular lady and tramp.” Their eyes are fidgety, flickering back and forth between their pizza and the window. “And they’re sharing the plate, the two of them. They’re eating together, and, um…”

“...And?”

They meet his eyes, mouth hanging open, and then they close it.

“Um, I don’t remember, actually,” they say, shaking their head and blinking. He sees it for the blatant lie that it is, and yet. “Do, do you remember?”

As he stares back at them, unable to look away, he wonders. He wonders about what this really means. About if this really means anything at all, about if he’s going to find out if it does.

“I don’t remember,” he answers quietly, cowardly, and neither of them say anything else.

Out of the two of them, they’ve always been better with recovering from awkward moments, so they do. They start talking about something else, and the world keeps turning. But in the back of his head, Carmy remains in that moment, unwilling to let it go.

Why did you say that you didn’t remember? He wants to say. Why didn’t I say that I remembered how it went? Because I remember. They kiss—they fucking kiss. Is that what you wanted to hear? Is that what I wanted to hear?

But because he’s Carmy, he doesn’t say anything. He just eats.

He’s so hungry that the pizza disappears in minutes. It’s delicious, but he’s so high he’s not completely sure he can taste it. Somehow, it remains the best thing he’s ever eaten.

The rest of the night is a blur. He remembers getting onto the couch at some point. They both decide on a random movie he doesn’t catch the name of. They finish off the joint on the couch together, sinking into its cushions. It burns hot in his throat as it reaches the end.

And as it turns out, the weed he smoked is the one that puts him to bed.

“...Ca…Car…” Someone’s calling him. “...Carmy, c’mon. You’re gonna complain about your neck tomorrow if you keep sleeping here.”

“Mhm,” he replies helpfully. He turns his head into the cushion. His body feels like an abstract blob, perfectly molded into the couch cushions.

“Okay, you made a good point. But. ” They laugh quietly, under their breath. “Movie’s been over for like 20 minutes now.”

“Mhm,” he repeats, nearly inaudible. He doesn’t wanna get up. Whenever he falls asleep, it always feels like he’s never gotten an hour of sleep in his life. There’s nothing he needs to think about, worry about. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t feel like letting that go just yet.

Everything goes silent again for a moment, save for the cars on the road. He begins to drift away again, slipping back into his dreamless sleep.

But then there’s a hand on his shoulder, and it’s like a smoking brand on his skin. His eyes fly open and he jolts awake, jerking upright.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they apologize, fretful. Between the dark of night and haze of sleep, they look pretty different. The blue light from the television is streaked across the blurry planes of their face.

“It’s fine,” he replies, drowsy. Speaking feels…heavy. Begrudgingly, he adjusts to sit up. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“Weed,” they say with a shrug.

“How, how long was I—?” He cuts himself off with a yawn, wide with condensation in the corners of his eyes.

“Only like, 30 minutes.” They yawn back. Typical infectious yawning. “End of the movie sucked anyway.”

“Oh.” Pause. “What was the ending?”

“Love interest died,” they state plainly. “He told her about how he felt, got rejected, and then she died in a car accident. Pretty tragic.”

“Huh.” Carmy makes a face. “That does suck.”

“Yeah, a bit.” They’re idly fiddling with the remote, scrolling through Netflix without reading anything. “I feel like the movie was trying to say something profound about the unpredictability of life or something, but the writing was shit.”

“I guess it’d be too perfect if they got together,” he muses.

“I guess,” they echo. They turn off the tv, and the room goes dark. The only light is from the yellow street lamp right outside their window, wonderful in its inconvenient placement. It illuminates the shape of the back and leaves their face in shadow. “I think I remember how that scene went,” they say suddenly.

“Oh.” Carmy’s heart feels stuck in his throat. “And how does it go?”

“Well, they’re—both eating spaghetti. Like I said.” They’re not facing him, leaving their face shrouded in shadow. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the shake in their voice or not. It’s beyond him why there would be any shakiness at all. “They somehow get the same noodle, so they, uh, kiss.”

“They kiss,” he repeats for some unknown reason.

“Yeah.” They let out a quick laugh, but it doesn’t sound like they actually find this funny. He wishes he could see the look on their face.

“I don’t think pasta works like that,” he hears himself murmur faintly. For some reason, he can’t help but think that was the wrong thing to say. But he’s already said it. Maybe it’s the same reason as to why his heart is beating so urgently.

“No, I, I don’t think so either,” they mumble. He refuses to place the way they’re feeling.

I can’t fucking do this.

The thought resounds like a gong, hit with a mallet right next to his ear.

“It’s late, I gotta head to bed.” It feels like someone else is speaking for him, moving his body for him. He can’t stop them. When he stands up, he avoids their face.

What the fuck are you doing?

Another thought resounds. He doesn’t respond.

“Right, I—didn’t even notice the time.” He pretends he doesn’t hear the strain in their voice. No, he didn’t word that right—there is no strain in their voice. “G’night.”

"Night,” he murmurs back.

This is enough, he tells himself as he falls into bed. His sheets are tangled. This is enough , he repeats, and it’s not because he’s scared, afraid, anxious, or any other stupid synonym. It’s because he believes it, needs to believe it.

He tells himself, this is enough , even though he wonders, what is supposed to be enough? He doesn’t listen. He stamps down the protests, the thoughts that are out of line. The high usually helps with that, but it’s worn off, now just leaving him in a weary, sleepy state of things.

This is enough, he thinks, and he falls asleep looking at their shrouded face behind his eyelids.

#carmy berzatto #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #lip gallagher #the bear fanfiction #hahaha i've been stewing on this fic since sept 2023 and now its here... i have like 2 more chapters written right now #they're around the same length #AH!!!! CARMEN BERZATTO!!!!#my writing #my fics #carmy #reader #alexithymia fic

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ghostsvacuumcleaner · 10 months

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Metamorphose | 2k

my masterlist | ao3 ✦ Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader ✦ Summary: You and Simon deal with the pain of losing a baby. ✦ TW and general warnings: established relationship, angst, fluff, sensitive content (abortion), depression and eating disorder mentions, it's painful but he comforts you

A/N: Hi everyone! Since I'm working hard on some requests I've received and in the next chapter of Shades of Red, I decided to release this kinda old drabble of mine here. I'm not too satisfied with how it ended up but enoughly to post, so enjoy <3

I'd also like to mention that I have a taglist for my longfic Shades of Red but not one for my general writing and drabbles so I'll make a post for it, but till then, if anyone's interested in being tagged in my general posts and drabbles, please let me know <3

The sky is colored in blue, pink and purple.

Mostly blue.

You stare outside of the window while it changes, a golden yellow sun by the morning that rises; it spent too much time burning bright in the also bright blue sky. You counted the hours till it started descending. Now, the sun was nothing more than a little line by the horizon, and the sky was fading into cold colors, fading into the cold night.

You feel hungry, but it felt wrong to eat knowing you’d be sick of your stomach the second food hits it. You’re not in town anymore, Simon decided it would be better if the two of you took some time out in the country, where it was safe and you’d have time and space to do the things you loved. Running with your dog, swimming in the lake, breathing the fresh air. Truth is, you don’t feel like doing anything. Your legs are too tired, you’re sleepy, you’re tired. You’re very tired.

You heard him on the phone earlier. His voice was hoarse and low, he argued you wouldn’t want to receive visits. You could tell whoever it was - was insisting, pushing him too hard into allowing them to visit you. He blatantly denied, and you could feel his mood changing in a bit of seconds, his patience running low and the moment he turned off and let out a huge snort; and it had been perhaps two hours since that happened.

You let out a tired sigh, your empty sad eyes stare down at a small sign of movement under the window you were staring at. A little cocoon, seeming to be still inhabited, was hanging from a little line in there. You knew it was supposed to keep hanging till the moment that little caterpillar metamorphosed into a butterfly, and broke the shell, flying out freely. But for some reason you can’t understand - as well as many things in nature, this one cocoon is about to fall.

Your shaky hands reach out for it and before it hit the ground, you carefully pull it and it detaches without a second guess. You take a small look around the room and grab a small empty cup where the water you were supposed to have drunk evaporated, and place the small thing inside of it.

“There you go.” You mutter, the first time you hear your own voice in days, maybe weeks.

Some things aren’t supposed to happen. And you’re not supposed to die without being conceived the chance of living, even if only for a day.

You reach for Simon downstairs, minutes later. Looking pale for the lack of food you’ve been putting yourself through, tired for even standing, collateral effects of the strong medication you’re taking for the sake of your life.

“Baby.” You mutter, and he turns instantly from the alluring stare he was giving the fireplace. Your man’s sitting in a cozy armchair, drinking tea - cold at this point - and dissociating just like yourself. You blame yourself for a second: how can you put him through so much? Isn’t he suffering as much as you, why are you isolating him?

“Yes, my love?” He quickly responds, like he craves for hearing more of you. “Another nightmare?” he asks, standing to come closer to you.

You shook your head. “No… I found this.” you show the cup between your hands; Simon doesn’t seem to get it at first glance. “A butterfly. It’ll come out anytime, the cocoon is moving.” you state.

“Oh.” He raises an eyebrow, and sighs a little. “What a cute thing… Should we put it in the garden?” He asks, so much calm in his voice you feel yourself a little lighter.

“I want to see it.” You state. “The butterfly, I don’t know what type it will be, I’m curious.”

Simon looks at you like love would, if love was a person. He’s as tired as you, you can tell. Maybe his legs work a bit more than yours and his hands have the capacity of doing the hard work still, but his mind is as empty as yours.

“Of course.” He nods, and reaches for his own coat, placing it around your shoulders. You feel warm and cozy to the smell of him. “We can watch, come on.” he suggests, and grabs onto your hand.

His squeeze is light and calm, and your body follows him instinctively, not thinking about anything but the comfort you crave right now.

For the past few days, the only thing you could think of was the void in your belly. The void you haven’t felt in months; when you told him you were pregnant, Simon stared at you in complete despair and horror for at least ten excruciating silent minutes. You weren’t used to the idea as well, you’d have to interrupt your current work, you’d have to dedicate yourself to learn the slightest about being a mother.

It is a lie that every woman is born knowing how to hold a baby. When the two of you would visit some of your friends and their children, you’d try to picture yourself as holding your own baby instead of holding theirs. You couldn’t. They’d tell you that oh, god, don’t hold him like this, while laughing. But for you that was a sinful despairing moment.

Simon knew better than you, as a matter of fact. He held babies correctly, unintentionally - but very correctly.

You didn’t know if you were supposed to feel envious of his natural ability or proud of having this man as a daddy to your baby.

You learnt to love the little thing growing in your belly. He did, too. He would often bring gifts to you - keeping track with your cravings, and also buying things for the baby. Baby’s little room would be full soon enough. This little creature who wasn’t even born yet was everywhere around your house. The worries about conciliating Simon’s work with your pregnancy were starting to catch the two of you off guard, and soon as he asked for a license to take care of his pregnant wife, that day. That night. So much pain, so much blood. He wasn’t a small lifeless fetus anymore, it was a whole baby. It was a girl. She had a name.

Some things aren’t supposed to happen.

“Your parents want to visit.” He mutters, the two of you sitting in the swinging chairs by the garden, surrounded by dozens of different kinds of flowers. The weather is fairly cold, but you don’t feel it with his coat around yourself. “Told them you wouldn’t want to.

“I don’t.” You agree. “Tell them I need time.”

“I did.” He fixes the coat you have around yourself, and glares into you as the sky fades into deeper tones of dark blue. “I was a little less polite than that, but I did.”

“If you weren’t, they wouldn’t listen.” You argue, looking at him now, too. Your eyes fall deep into the void of his own.

For the first time in those two painful weeks, you can feel his pain flowing through his damaged soul. Like yours.

“I know. Terribly stubborn blood you have, dear.” he mutters, moving your hair off your face. “Did you manage to eat something today?”

“No. I’m sorry.” You mutter, your voice failing for the first time.

“Don’t do this to me.” His voice comes out pained like yours. He closes his eyes, and his jaw clenches in sadness when he sees the tears start gleaming through your eyes. “Don’t apologize. Don’t cry…” he asks in an almost begging voice.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, love, this is all my fault, it’s-” you catch your breath in your throat and suddenly, you’re falling apart. Days of nothing, weeks of not feeling anything but pain in your chest, despair, panic, and now you’re falling apart in front of him. Your tears stream down your face like overflowing rivers. “It’s my fault.” You say, grabbing handfuls of your hair and tugging your face on your knees.

Simon feels his own eyes get drenched as he can’t hold his own rivers by seeing you like this. He kneels down to the ground in front of you, pulling your hands from your hair, carefully stopping you from hurting yourself; feels excruciating to him to be able to do nothing.

“It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.” He mutters, and you feel your body moving up. He holds you like you’re lightweight and takes his seat where you were sat at, now, holding you like a baby against his lap. You tuck your face on his chest now, the tears wetting his shirt, your painful voice coming out in low groans of pain, a painful cry of a mother who lost her children. The sad dead eyes of a father who watched this happening and couldn’t do nothing about it. The grief of parents, who didn’t have the chance of raising their children.

“Why? It hurts so much, so much.” You say beneath your cry, your eyes drenched, your face red from all of the crying. His hand is caressing the back of your head as he silently cries.

“I know. I know it hurts.” his voice is almost a blow of the wind, a whisper. “I can’t possibly know how it feels for your, my darling, but it feels bloody excruciating to me, everyday. I miss her all of the time.” He admits, his voice like the one of a kid who just lost its parents. “I miss talking to her, feeling her kick in. I miss her.”

For the past few days, the two of you seemed to be speaking in foreign languages.

Couldn’t understand each other. Couldn’t comprehend. He was in pain, so were you. None of you could see each other, understand each other. The two of you needed space. The fights, the screaming, his complaints about your refusal to get help and your anger for not feeling understood.

Right now, you feel understood.

Who could understand a grieving mother more, than the kid’s grieving father?

You miss moments that didn’t exist. That didn’t even happen.

You shouldn’t have died without even getting the chance of living. Even if for a day.

“I’d give anything to have a day with her. A fucking day, just one.” You mutter in admission, as you hug in his arms and feel his warmth start to make you calmer by the second. Simon closes his eyes in acknowledgement.

“Me too, darling. And I don’t know what can we possibly do so this hurts any less, but I’m pretty sure we can make it easier if we’re together in this.” He affirms, his hand reaching for your face and washing away your tears. You look at his eyes for the very first time in weeks now. “We face it together.”

The sky is painted in dark blue now as night approaches and the cold finally starts rising completely. You feel it hitting your skin, as Simon has you in his arms and you hum a low lullaby to the air. He runs his hand across your belly like he somehow tries to heal you from the void you’ve been feeling.

If she feels empty, then I’ll fill her with my own love.

You close your eyes and even though in this terribly uncomfortable position, you feel warm, and you feel cared. You rest. You fall asleep in a matter of seconds

None of you had awakened in time to see the cocoon hatch and the butterfly fly out. But for the past months, for the past years - when you were facing the task of emptying your baby’s room along with Simon, or when you were working - and even in other times, when you’d catch yourself thinking about her, you’d see a blue butterfly flying around you.

Simon was too skeptical to believe, but even so, he’d always catch every butterfly he’d see, and bring it to you. “Look, who’s coming to visit!”

#simon ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod fic #simon riley fluff

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momotonescreaming · 1 year

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I've been having Steddie Dads & Surrogate Robin brainworms thanks to this ficlet by @unclewaynemunson so I had to write this quick thing. Hope you like it <3 EDIT - Now on AO3!

Eddie knew that there was a lot involved with surrogacy. As soon as it was on the table, a topic of discussion — Steve had dove head first into research, taking Eddie along with him. They’d be curled up in bed together, Steve flipping through a pile of pamphlets and magazine articles, with Eddie re-reading the hobbit next to him until Steve places a pamphlet between the pages of his book. Lazy afternoons spent in their living room, reading up on agencies, clinics, Eddie with his head on Steve’s shoulder so they can read together.

He knew there was going to be money spent, many many appointments made, trips to doctors and lawyers and other very boring, very adult, very important things.

What Eddie didn’t realise, was how much time was going to be spent standing in hallways, waiting for Robin to piss on a stick.

Each time made his heart clench, his hands shake, knowing that one little plus or minus was going to change the trajectory of his life forever. In a good way of course. Always a good way. Steve squeezed his hand, looking over at him with a nervous smile. Eddie squeezed back — the cool metal of his rings pressing into the warmth of Steve’s hand — and he thunked his head onto the wall behind him.

“Quit it!” Robin hollered, voice muffled through the bathroom door. “You’re making me nervous!”

“I thought you said you peed when you’re nervous?” Steve shouted back, tilting his head towards the door.

“Not when I’m nervous about peeing!” Robin replied, voice still raised and edged with anxiety. “So quit slamming the wall Eddie!”

“How’d you know it was me?” Eddie interrupted, brows furrowing. Robin ignored him and continued shouting through the door.

“It reminds me that you’re there, and you’re listening, and I get all nervous and I can’t pee-“ Robin started to ramble, words merging together as her voice sped up. “-because I know you’re there listening which I know is the point of this whole exercise. But there’s a lot riding on this, riding on me, and then I start thinking about how big this is for you guys — and also for me again — and what if my eggs don’t work? Or I’m a bad surrogate? And then I get even more nervous because I really want to do this for you guys! You two deserve to be dads, and you’re going to be so good at it, which we won’t know unless I can pee Goddamnit.”

Her words ran out, and Eddie could picture her taking a deep breath as she leant on her knees, hunched over her body. He smiled faintly, and thumped his head onto Steve’s shoulder — knowing Robin would shout if she could hear him thump the wall again. A part of him was tempted to — to see what she would shout through the door again — but he couldn’t do that to her now. Not when she was doing so much for them. So Eddie took a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of Steve’s cologne and their laundry detergent, letting it calm him as he gently starts rubbing his thumb across the back Steve’s hand.

“Deep breaths, Rob,” Steve said, voice warm and comforting. “You’ve got this.” A pause. “Need me to come in?”

“Maybe?” Robin says quietly, unsure, before quickly correcting herself. “No. Wait- no. I got this. I’ll run the tap and pretend you’re not there.”

“Just yell if you need us,” Eddie added, hoping Robin can hear him over the sound of the now running water. He tries not to think about it too much, make himself too nervous, or too aware that he was just standing in a hallway waiting for Robin to piss on a stick. Of course it wasn’t just any stick.

The three of them have done this a few times now, and it still hasn’t stopped feeling any less nerve wracking. So Eddie takes another deep breath, and lets his eyes glaze over the pictures and paintings Robin’s hung on her walls to distract himself.

There are a lot of photos of her and Steve from throughout the years, and Eddie smiles at the sight. Them in their Family Video vests, back in Hawkins. At a family BBQ in the Buckley’s backyard, hung next to a painting of a horse she got in an estate sale. One from their first apartment in Chicago. The pair of them at Robin’s college graduation.

A photo with Erica and Dustin as well — the infamous Scoops Troop — all of them eating ice cream together. A couple with her and Eddie, smiling and pulling faces at Steve behind the camera, next to a painting that Robin got at a thrift store because the Victorian lady in it looked like ‘a funky old lesbian, but in a haunted sort of way’. Steve had just said it looked sort of like his Grandmother, and Robin had snorted soda up her nose.

They had decided to do the test at Robin’s apartment, in a futile attempt to make her more comfortable. Or at the very least — less nervous than last time, where Robin had locked herself in their hall bathroom and made them go watch TV until she was done. It was negative.

Eddie closed his eyes. The waiting was the worst. The absolute fucking worst. Knowing that one mark on a piece of plastic was going to tell him if he and Steve were one step closer to becoming parents. Becoming dads. And all he could do was wait.

He was both eager for and dreading the answer. He wanted to be a dad, to give Steve his six little nuggets, to raise a family with him. But at the same time he was terrified of turning into his father. A no good piece of shit who was never fit to raise a kid. Steve had talked him down, calmed him, the first time he had a panic attack about it.

It was after their first appointment at the clinic, and he had held Eddie’s hand and had admitted that he was scared too. Scared of turning into his father. To sympathise, not to dismiss Eddie’s fears. It had helped, listening to Steve’s steady breathing and soft voice as he talked about how it was a good thing they were both scared. Means they don’t want to be the sort of men their fathers were. Steve didn’t think his father was worried about neglecting him, he just sort of did it y’know? Eddie had snorted, blinked away his tears, and had admitted that Steve was right. Steve said of course he was, because he knew that Eddie won’t turn into his father. He’s going to turn out like Wayne.

Eddie had cried then, and he could feel his eyes starting to go misty now, standing in Robin’s hallways with Steve’s hand in his. He tries to blink away the tears that were threatening to fall, but Eddie doesn’t think he’s that successful. He knows he’s definitely unsuccessful when he feels Steve gently kiss the top of his head, lips pressing against his curls.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when they hear the click of the door opening, Robin stepping out into the hall with her hands behind her back. Eddie can feel his throat tighten, and sort of feels like he’s going to puke. Oh God, this is it. Steve tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand, and they both whip their heads around to look at her. Robin’s face is unreadable as she looks down at her feet, and then up to them.

There’s a glint in her eyes now, a certain twist in the corner of her mouth, and Eddie can hear Steve’s breath hitch. She reaches behind her back, and holds the pregnancy test out in front of them. Their eyes are drawn to it like a magnet, desperate, eager, searching.

Eddie looks for the small screen on the side of the test and finds himself staring at a small, red, plus. His gaze snaps to Robin’s, eyes wide, and she’s biting her lips now, holding back the grin that threatens to take over her face.

He looks over at Steve only to find him looking back, his own eyes now glistening with unshed tears. Neither of them say anything as they look back at Robin. Not yet. It feels like as soon as they say anything, verbalise it, make it real, it’s going to hit Eddie like a truck. So he sits in the quiet of the moment, tearing up, Steve’s hand gripped tightly in his.

Robin’s voice is soft and low as she speaks, breaks the silence. “I’m pregnant.”

“You’re pregnant,” Steve repeats in awe, almost reverential. His eyes shine as a stray tear falls. “Holy shit.”

“I’m pregnant!” She repeats, louder this time, no longer holding back a smile but grinning at them widely. Gripping the pregnancy test in her hands, she starts to jump and rock in place. As if her excitement is an itch under her skin she can’t get out. “It worked!”

Eddie hasn’t said anything, he doesn’t know how to. He know’s he’s standing there looking gormless, doe eyed and teary, mouth agape. It doesn’t seem real. It finally worked. Robin is pregnant and it’s theirs. He whispers. “You’re pregnant.” Then again, louder, as if repeating the words would make it more real. “You’re fucking pregnant!”

“We’re having a baby!” Steve says, words dripping with excitement and awe and almost disbelief. He lets go of Eddie’s hand, but before he can miss it’s presence Steve is throwing his arms around both him and Robin, drawing them in close.

Eddie’s really crying now, tears coming out in a flood and he can’t stop them. Above all else, above the fear and the anxiety and the weight of his father — he’s happy. He’s so fucking happy. Steve’s shirt is dampening with Eddie’s tears, and he can hear Robin sniffling herself. If they’re not careful, they’ll spend the whole evening crying in the hall. He leans over to place a wet smacking kiss on Robin’s cheek, and then turns to Steve to give him the same.

Steve turns at the last second, capturing his lips with his own. And then they’re kissing, and they’re crying, smiling through it all with Robin still trapped in a hug. She doesn’t seem to mind, laughing all the while, clutching the test in her hands like it’s made of gold. Steve pulls back from the kiss with a wet pop, and Robin beams through her own tears as Steve buries his face in her neck.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, loud enough for them all to hear. “For doing this for us.”

“It’s an honour,” Robin replies, words honey sweet and oh so happy. She smiles at them, sniffling. “But if you think I’m not going to milk this for all it’s worth, you’re wrong.”

Eddie throws his head back and cackles.

#Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Robin Buckley #Steddie #Steddie fic #Stranger Things #My Writing #stobin

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momo-t-daye · 3 months

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Revising Their Stars (8306 words) by Momo_T_Day Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sirius Black & Severus Snape, Sirius Black/Severus Snape, Sirius Black & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter Characters: Sirius Black, Severus Snape, James Potter, Peter Pettigrew Summary: Sirius is horribly terribly dreadfully bored now that dear cousin Narcissa has prohibited him from tormenting Severus Snape (despite every tantalizing opportunity Snape goes out of his way to provide!). Maybe helping Snape prepare for the upcoming Astronomy O.W.L. will be more fun than Sirius could have expected, Snape certainly seems to be learning something interesting during their tour of the stars. Or Sirius Black is not impressed with Severus Snape’s “#genius lifehacks” for a “#frugal life”

This is the longest fic I've written and I probably spent too much time looking up old star charts and moon phases and comet visibility records but I love stargazing so the research stays in!

Follows "A most wretched raccoon" and takes place before "Bad taste in men"

Should I post the text here as well as on Ao3? I find reading easier on Ao3 for myself, but I do know I'm not very tech savvy...

#Severus Snape #Sirius Black #Snirius #snape fic #This took more than a year to write because writing is hard #Writers are amazing and talented!#This is mostly very silly and I had fun with words but it wasn't beta read or britpicked #Severus' POV/internal monologue would've been mostly screaming with the occasional panicked bit of profanity so it's more Sirius POV #Sirius' train of thought is like a turbocharged pinball machine and Severus has no idea what is happening #I had fun with the worldbuilding hints and certain mental images

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shimmershy · 11 months

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There's Only One Thing Left to Say, This Time (Undertale Fanfic)

New fanfic time! When I started writing this, I got the idea mostly because 1. I've been having trouble "moving on" from things in my own life recently and wanted to try processing it through fic and 2. it was the end of the school year for me and I had been saying a lot of goodbyes, so it felt thematically relevant. I wrote almost the entire thing impulsively at like three am a couple weeks ago and really impressed myself lol.

Chara Week Day 7: Free (I know it's over, but shhhh it still counts)

Summary:

You're having trouble saying goodbye, but the thing is that you don't have to! If you keep Resetting just before it's all over, you'll never have to be by yourself again. Right? You haven't known them long, and maybe they weren't super nice at the start, but they were there for you every step of the way. They listened to you and helped you when no one else would. You can't just let them disappear… You can't. ...But you can't keep doing this forever, Frisk. You have to let me go.

Characters: Chara and Frisk

Word count: 4,763 words

(Ao3 link in reblog!)

There's only one thing left to say this time,

I hope you're fine, goodbye.

– “Goodbye” by The Altogether

It isn’t until the third True Reset that I realize what this is all about, and when I do, I feel silly for not realizing it before.

I can still feel the way the bitterness worked its way under my skin the first time you brought everyone back. Which, is actually quite impressive on your part! Seeing as I don’t have skin anymore. I suppose it worked its way under your skin, then, because you wouldn’t stop apologizing to me in your head as you made your way through the Ruins. I should have been the one apologizing to you, Frisk. It’s no business of mine what you do with your own life, and you have no business feeling my emotions for me. This connection we have can be troubling, at times.

Still, it felt like a betrayal, and you offered me no explanation, so I could not understand.

I understood a little better when you decided to stay with Toriel for a while. Despite my obvious frustration and impatience, you sat and listened to her snail facts. You let her show you that bug-hunting spot she mentioned, and you spent time helping her run errands and letting her teach you how to cook. You even got to the point where she started giving you classes, as if you planned on staying. I assumed it was sentimentality, then. Perhaps there was something about the Underground that you didn’t want to leave behind. Maybe you weren’t ready to go back to living on the surface just yet. It’s not as if I could blame you for that one.

What I didn’t notice (and what I am noticing now), was how much attention you were giving me. And well, it’s not that I didn’t notice. I was just too busy being annoyed about it, and rightfully so. Can’t the narrator of your life narrate in peace? I do not care for superfluous conversation. And that’s not even the worst of it. Frisk, you should not be so casual about sharing control of your body, That’s like, the one thing you should never have to share. Sure, it happened one time, but I only stepped in because you were so afraid, and I didn’t even realize it was happening until it was me that the spears were getting shot at. That’s different. I will not take control of your body just to eat a slice of pie. Your pity for me is insulting.

What’s troubling is that it doesn't seem to be going away.

You take your first shivering step into Snowdin (for the fourth time, I can’t help but note) without so much as a glance behind you. This time, you left Toriel with no hesitation, and I know it’s because you know I didn’t want to stay. You’re not even trying to hide it. This is when I finally decide it’s time to confront you.

What are you doing? I ask.

“I’m…walking?” you respond, confused, through thoughts. Your boots crunch satisfyingly through the snow to prove your point. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I huff in frustration.

Frisk. Why do you keep Resetting?

This stops you (and your crunchy boots) in your tracks, and suddenly I can feel anxiety radiating off of you. You weren’t expecting me to ask you this directly.

When you don’t respond, I continue, a little bit of venom coating my words despite my best efforts. For the third time now, you have made it to the end, broken the barrier, only to start all over again. Do you not feel even the slightest bit of remorse?

“Of course I feel bad!” you’re quick to say, as if you’re surprised I would assume otherwise. “But…we’ll still get there again in the end; it’s not that big a deal.”

That’s a horrible excuse.

“Why’re you so angry about it?” Your voice comes out sharp in the frigid air.

Why are you so stubborn?

“What’re you even talking about?!”

You’re trying to delay the inevitable.

You’re about to debate me on that, too, in a defensive way rather than a genuinely angry way. But you stop, because you suddenly understand that I understand, and the anxiety returns. You continue walking after a brief hesitation.

Goodbyes are never easy, I say, as gently as I can. (It ends up sounding forced anyway.)

You ignore me, and I allow you to.

~~~

What are you going to do once you get back to the surface? Once you decide to stay?

You’ve made it to Waterfall at this point, having made it through Snowdin without much event. You’re getting a little tired of doing the same thing every time; I can tell, but you would never admit to it.

You kick a stone on the ground, watching as it disappears into the dark grass. “I dunno.” (“I dunno-”) (“-dunno-”)

Your own voice travels around you in echoes and fragments. You really shouldn’t talk out loud like this in the middle of all these echo flowers. Number one, it’s annoying, and that should be reason enough, but number two, you shouldn’t make a habit of talking out loud to the voice in your head at all. People are going to think you’re weird. And I mean, you’re already pretty weird, but do you really want the reputation of “the weird kid who talks to themself” stuck to you even after I’m gone?

I didn’t even realize you were listening to all that, but you flinch at that last part, not only mentally but physically too, and I try to ignore the fact that you’re proving my point.

I hum thoughtfully. You “don’t know”? That’s certainly an issue then, isn’t it?

You start to fidget with the hem of your sweater and return to talking to me through thoughts, much to my relief. “I just haven’t thought much about it.”

This is a lie. But I don’t point that out to you.

You’re in a part of Waterfall that you’ve never seen before. Admittedly, it’s not much different to the parts you have seen before, but the fact that it’s new at all is good enough for you. You’re trying to explore the area as much as you can this time around, because you’ve realized just how expansive Waterfall really is and the curiosity you came here with the first time still hasn’t left you. You’ve barely seen a fraction of the place, and you definitely won’t manage to see all of it, but you’re certainly going to try.

I might take this time to remind you that no matter how many times you’ve befriended her in the past, Undyne is still hunting you down in this timeline. So maybe taking the time to look at every blade of grass there is to look at isn’t the best idea. But whatever.

There are quite a few echo flowers growing in this area, as I mentioned before. It seems more secluded than the rest of the caverns that make up Waterfall, if that’s even possible. You can see the main path you usually walk from where you’re standing, separated from you by a large expanse of luminescent cyan water, and an overwhelming sense of calm washes over you. It’s like this is a little cove carved out just for you, safe from everything that may hurt you. It’s hard for me not to feel the same sense of calm. Whether it’s just the spilling over of your emotions or completely and entirely mine is hard to tell, but it doesn’t really matter.

Why don’t we sit here for a minute? I ask. You let out a breath and descend to the ground, hugging your knees and resting your head against the rough cavern walls without hesitation, as if you were waiting for me to say just that.

It’s nice to just be here, for me, with you, like this. Together. Your hands are intertwined in the way that I know means you’re trying to hold my hand, in whatever way you can. We look out at the stillness of the water, listening to the sound of rushing waterfalls in the distance. We both must be thinking about the same thing, now, because although I don’t agree with the Resets, I understand why you don’t want to leave, to some extent. Have you convinced me that you’re right? Have I felt this way the entire time and simply didn’t realize until now? I can’t say for certain. But I’m becoming increasingly aware of my own fear of reaching the end.

“Chara?” you say, voice cracking a little. The sound of my name spoken aloud and echoed around by the echo flowers startles me. “It’s just that…I really, really don’t wanna be by myself again.”

I feel tears pricking at your eyes. The honesty in your voice stings.

You won’t be by yourself, I try halfheartedly. Everyone will be up there with you.

You reposition to rest your head on your knees. “You know what I mean,” you whisper, and after a moment you say. “You’re not gonna be there.”

…Right. Of course.

That is the funny thing about good things, see. About journeys and stories. And lives. They end. Sometimes (always) too soon.

I do not know what I was expecting the first time you made it to the surface. What, was I just going to live inside your head forever? Would you want that? Would I? The strangest thing happened when you stepped over that threshold where the barrier once stood, when everyone else followed you out. I felt you pull away from me, and then I watched the back of your head as you walked out into the sun. It was a bit disorienting. I wasn’t seeing through your eyes anymore, I was just…there. Watching. Barely even there, because I couldn't feel you there justifying my existence anymore.

I don’t think there was a doubt in either of our minds about what that meant. As everyone else chatted in awe of how beautiful the sun was, you looked back at me (although I don’t think you really saw me, just the empty opening of the cave). There was confusion, or sadness, or panic on your face. I’ve never had to read your face from the outside before, what a funny thing to realize. Whatever emotion it was, it was enough to make you Reset. And then again, and again. It really was for my sake, then.

This makes me feel a strange mixture of things, but the feeling of guilt sticks out like a sore thumb. Frisk, I don’t want you to feel any sort of…obligation? Or anything? To keep me alive. I’ve been wanting to be dead for a long time.

It’s a lame attempt at humor to lighten the mood, but as soon as I think it, I realize how unfunny it sounds. It kind of stops being a joke when it’s true.

Still, you reply, “It’s not like that. You know that.”

You are making some awfully bold assumptions here, though they’re not entirely false. I’m inclined to ask, what is it like then? Would moving on with your life not be the best option here? Everything is going to work out for you. And, hey, you won’t even have to put up with an annoying ghost in your head anymore.

“What if I like the annoying ghost in my head?”

Well, then you’re weird. But we’ve already established that.

That gets a smile out of you. “See? You always make me feel better,” you think, and I want to roll my eyes at that. I want to remind you of all the times I made you feel worse rather than better, but I stay quiet for now.

“…Before I came here,” you start, eyes trained on the ground as you fidget with the grass there, “I was alone a lot. It wasn’t so bad, but…it wasn’t so good either.” You shrug one of your shoulders. “I dunno. I didn’t think about it much. I had to take care of myself, and there was never anyone there…to say it’d be okay, or to tell me dumb jokes, or just be there…y’know?”

Yeah. I do know.

…

“I kinda panicked when I left the Underground and you weren’t there. You were just…gone, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even really mean to Reset, I just didn’t think, and I-“

You sigh.

“I just really care about you. You’re like my best friend, Chara- ‘N that’s what it’s like. It’s like saying goodbye to your best friend.”

Oh.

Ha ha. Yes, I really do know that, don’t I?

“Wait, augh. I-I probably shouldn’t’ve said it like that, I’m sorry-“

No, Frisk, there is no need to apologize. It is fine. It’s fine.

Your fingernails claw into the grass and the dirt beneath.

I know. I know what you mean. I really do.

I try not to think of my brother. I fail.

I did not think you would care so much. It’s- (stupid), I want to say, but you are not stupid. (See, caring about me always gets people hurt), I want to say, but that’s not your fault. (What did you expect?), I want to say. (I don’t believe you), I want to say. (I don’t understand you), I want to say. I can’t- I can’t say any of that. I can’t say anything to you, right now.

You- you nod, a little concerned, but you give me space. You bring your hands together again and gaze out at the water again for a minute. Then, finally, you decide to continue onwards. You have a fish monster to face.

~~~

Being here doesn’t get easier, no matter how prepared I am after each Reset. The grey, achromatic walls and floors. The feeling of despair in the air. The stillness. It directly contrasts my memories of warmth and color and love in this home. It reminds me too much of dust.

I stay quiet as you kneel in front of the save star. It glows in a steady, consistent way, light flowing out from the center and disintegrating at the edges. A comforting feeling washes over you, as it always does, and you step into the house.

It’s as lonely as ever. You should just get this over with. The monsters that are always here to greet you at this phase of your journey stop you on your way to the kitchen.

“A long time ago, a human fell into the Ruins,” one of the Froggits begins. You stand there with your hands clasped together and listen politely, as you always do. I put up a mental barrier between myself and the world and try not to listen, as I always do.

The key on the kitchen countertop glints in the other room. You wait for the Froggits to finish speaking before grabbing it and returning to the hallway. You make your way to the far end of the hall to grab the second key, too, before entering my old room.

You open the gift boxes and take the locket and dagger out without a word. I relish the familiar weight around your neck as you reach back to fasten the locket’s clasp. It helps me find the words I want to say.

Frisk. I don’t want to keep doing this.

You’re surprised to hear me speak, but you listen.

What we talked about earlier… It’s not that I don’t want to stay. I think…you’ve helped me a lot too. And I’m really glad I met you. I’m just tired of feeling stuck in the past. A part of me…wants that, but. It hurts, being here but not being able to do anything. To fix anything.

Plus, I mean. You!! The barrier’s broken thanks to you! You and…Asriel, of course. At least, it will be. Again. It’s… I’m glad it worked out in the end. Even if it took a really long time.

I wish things could be different. I wish I could stay, at least a little longer, but I don’t want to take this away from them. Or from you. I made my choice a long time ago, and this is already more than I deserve.

…

Are you…crying?

You’re holding your arms around yourself, as well. What is this???

“A hug,” you say through thoughts, sniffling.

Oh.

“I’m sorry for making you feel like that.”

It’s not your fault.

“I shouldn’t’ve kept Resetting, though. I knew it upset you the first time…”

I understand why you did it now, though. It’s okay, really.

“Okay…”

You rub your eyes with your sleeve and stand up, giving yourself a self-assured nod.

“Don’t worry. This will be the last time.”

~~~

When it’s time to fight Asriel, we’re both filled with determination. The nothingness surrounding us erupts in color and light, illuminated by kaleidoscopic starbeams and glimmering stardust. Attacks rain down on you from above, and you weave your body between them masterfully. You can’t evade them all, but I’m there cheering you on. A blast from Shocker Breaker shatters your soul; I reach out to press the pieces back together. But it refused!

Asriel floats above you, smirking with confidence in his power. You aren’t afraid of him anymore. You know all too well what he’s capable of, but you know him better now than you did when you first encountered him, just a human and a flower with a million untold secrets between them. He’d laid all his puzzle pieces out before you, and you can’t help but see the whole painful picture before you now. He’s stuck in a cycle, much like you but nothing like you at all. You’re going to help him bring it to an end. (Once and for all.)

The attacks keep coming, but you persist. You reach out to your friends within Asriel’s soul and remind them of who they are. Undyne, whom you admire for her enthusiasm and sense of justice. Alphys, whose intelligence and desire to do better inspire you. Papyrus, whom you enjoy hanging out with for his optimism and dedication. Sans, who tells you jokes that make you laugh and whose laid-back attitude puts you at ease. Toriel, who cares for you as her own child and made you feel safe when you first found yourself in this unfamiliar place. Asgore, whose presence is both comforting and sad, knowing of the difficult decisions he’s had to make in his life. Once you’ve reached out to all your friends, there’s only one thing left to do.

It seems that there’s still one last person that needs to be saved.

So you reach out to Asriel. And I do, too. He’s not the same as he was all those years ago, when we were just two kids playing in a muddy flower garden, and neither am I. But it’s still him, despite everything. He resists…and he’s still crying out to you as if you’re me. It hurts. I watch him do this every time, desperately latch on to the belief that I’m not really gone, and the ironic thing is that I have been here the whole time.

“I’m not ready for this to end,” he says, confident façade cracking.

It ended a long time ago.

“I’m not ready for you to leave,” he says.

I know.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to someone like you again…”

…

“So, please…” His voice shakes, laced with despair. “Stop doing this… And just let me win!!!”

He raises his arms and summons all his magic for one final attack. Your vision is overwhelmed with color as the blast hits you, and you barely register the way he screams at you to stop holding on as your HP drops, with each passing second, to an impossibly low number. But it never reaches zero. You don’t die; your soul doesn’t shatter, because you’ve made it this far and you’re not about to give up now.

Finally, the world grows silent as the sound of magic rushing past your ears subsides. You’re exhausted, though Asriel is barely even paying attention to you anymore. He closes his eyes. Suddenly he seems so small inside his godlike form, too small to really be the Absolute God of HYPERDEATH.

“I’m so alone, Chara…” he says. “I’m so afraid…” They’re echoes of words I’ve already heard him say three times before, but they feel like acid nonetheless because it’s my fault and I’m the reason he’s like this, but you firmly tell me that it’s not. I don’t know if I can believe you, but I lean into you and try not to say anything more.

…

The world fades to black, and Asriel stands before you, looking the way I remember him once again. He’s covering his face, wiping away his tears and probably trying to hide the fact that he’s crying, too. He always was a crybaby, wasn’t he?

“I always was a crybaby, wasn’t I, Chara?”

Ha. Indeed.

He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. “…I know. You’re not actually Chara, are you? Chara’s been gone for a long time.”

You open your mouth to protest, but… Come on, Frisk, I can’t do that to him. Not after all that.

“But… Are you sure?”

I’m not… I am not here to stay. It would be a mistake to get his hopes up.

You twist your fingers together, disappointed, but you close your mouth anyway.

I’m only half-listening as he continues, asking for your name (which you have given him three times already) and apologizing for his actions. This is the last time I’m going to see him, is it not? He will break the barrier, and then you will go to the surface with everyone else. And I… Well, I don’t actually know what will happen to me. I won’t be able to come with you. I know that, at the very least. It looks like it might really be the end for me. I don’t know how to feel about that.

You tell him you forgive him, as you do every time. It seems only fair to you, after everything he’s gone through. A part of you understands him, even though most of you doesn’t, and you hope the knowledge that somebody in the universe forgives him gives him some solace. He smiles at you sadly.

He can’t stay, he tells you. With a deep breath, he closes his eyes in concentration. The human souls gather around him as he rises into the air, hovering around him in a circle, and the monster souls follow suit, glowing in the darkness. With the combined power of the human souls and every monster soul in the Underground, each pulsing with the same desire…the barrier is finally broken.

It’s over. There’s a weighty sense of resolution to it now. I don’t want you to Reset again. I know you won’t.

I stare at Asriel through your eyes as he lowers to the ground again, head tilted down, eyes closed. He looks so tired. He tells you that he needs to go, that you should go be with the people that care about you. You should just forget about him, he says. As if that would be possible.

Every word feels like a countdown, and I want to do something, but I can’t move. I need him to forget about me. I can’t be here messing everything up. I don’t…want him to forget me. But I don’t want him to hurt remembering me. I don’t want to stay here… I don’t want to go.

You hug Asriel. To my surprise, your arms tighten around him as you allow me to slip into control. “Just for a minute,” you think. The feeling of warmth and his sweater under my fingers and my chin on his shoulder hits me so suddenly that I can’t stop my tears from running down your face. I relax into the hug, though. I close my eyes and try to forget where we are and what we’ve been through. I don’t want to let go…

When he finally pulls away, he gives me a weird look, but it’s gone in a moment.

“I’ll miss you,” I say without thinking.

He laughs. “Please don’t.”

And just like that, he’s gone again.

“You okay?” you ask as you slip back into control. Your presence is comforting beside mine in your mind.

I am, I say. Yeah.

~~~

Outside, clouds drift lazily across the sky, a beautiful gradient from lilac to yellow to frame the setting sun. Over the edge of the mountainside, you can just barely see the tops of trees stretching out into the distance, leaves tousling gently in the breeze. Tall buildings silhouette the sky on one side, and on the other, more mountains.

The light streams in through the exit to the Underground, of which you stand behind. One of your hands is cupped over the other in front of you, and you run your fingertips over the knuckles absently. You have been standing here for a while, hesitant.

Congratulations, partner, I start in an attempt to ease the tension, you’ve saved everyone once again.

“We did,” you correct. “And Asriel.”

Of course. And now, think about it. Everyone is free for real. They can see the sun, the sky, the stars… There’s a whole future ahead of them. And you get to be a part of it. That’s amazing, is it not?

“Mhm…”

You could stay with Mom. She would make you breakfast in the morning, read you bedtime stories at night. I bet Undyne would be willing to teach you some sick fighting moves. Anime nights with Alphys.

“I could hang out with Sans and Papyrus.”

Yeah! You could learn how to make music with Napstablook. That might be fun. And Mettaton might need some help becoming a star on the surface, too.

You giggle. “I think he’s got that covered.”

Maybe. I smile along with you. But, aren’t you excited? Not everything will be easy, but you have so many people supporting you.

“I know…” You sigh through your nose. “You deserve all that too, though; it’s not fair.”

Hey. The lilac is disintegrating from the sky, fading into a deep orange. Some of the wind makes it into the cave, crisp air whistling through the doorway and cooling your skin. Hey, you know what? It’s worth it. It’s okay.

I think there are tears in your eyes again. Come on, please don’t cry.

I can’t stay here forever. I’m already overstaying my welcome, being dead and all. I was supposed to be gone a long time ago, but…I got to meet you by some miracle, and that makes it all worth it, I think. Even if I can’t stay.

“Charaaa…”

I laugh a little. Don’t worry about me, Frisk. Really. I couldn’t have asked for anything more.

You hug yourself- “Hug you,” you correct. Oh. Okay. You hug me, and I, try to hug you back? It’s a little bit awkward, but I appreciate it all the same. The emotional vulnerability is starting to make me uncomfortable, but I need you to know I care about you. I know you’ll be okay.

Ha ha, this goodbye stuff is pretty hard, huh?

“Goodbye,” you say simply, with a teasing smile.

Oh, not so hard for you, it seems. Well then, “goodbye” to you, too.

I pause. …And good luck out there, partner. I think Asriel said it best: take care of everyone for me, okay? Even him.

You nod and give me a shaky little thumbs up. That’s the spirit! (Pun always intended.)

With a glance over to the others, who are in the other room, chatting amongst themselves and waiting for you, you decide you’re finally ready to go. You let everyone know, and the excitement in the room is palpable as you all make your way to the exit. They make a fuss out of you, ruffling your hair and smiling back at you. You let them leave first, and then at last, you step over the threshold yourself. I feel our connection sever.

And then I’m watching the back of your head as you walk away again. Before you reach the others though, you turn around to give me a small wave.

That’s it, I guess… I can’t exactly wave back, but I wish you well and thank you for everything. Together, you and I allow time to continue on.

#chara week #chara week 2023 #they're not in the cover art but the fic is mostly about them and Frisk so #undertale #safeutdr #chara dreemurr #frisk dreemurr #fanfiction #undertale fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #my art #chara #frisk #undertale frisk #undertale chara #🌼#also in reference to what I wrote at the beginning of the post. I wrote that a couple weeks ago. when I THOUGHT I would finish this #but of course I procrastinated on writing the last scenes so now I'm posting it quite a bit after the school year ended. oh well #still thematically relevant #writing is hard for me /except/ when I impulsively write at 3am and realize I've gotten to 2000 words without really trying. apparently. :I #also as a sidenote. this is just a one-off 'what if' scenario for me because the idea of chara not being able to come with frisk to #the surface makes me sad so. :(#sidenote number two. HOW did this become longer than Thunderstorms dude....... that was not intentional.

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ilycorisradiata · 2 years

Note

Hi!!!! Is it ok if I request alhaitham x btm!male reader nsfw where he is sparring with him but the reader keeps getting distracted? I am so down bad for this man 😩

distraction pt. 1

ಌ distraction: alhaitham x male!reader

ಌ theme: you've been sparring with him for a little while now, but you keep getting distracted

ಌ cw: 18+ NSFW, male reader, bottom!reader, you get smacked in the ass by a wooden baton, brief non-detailed solo reader jerk off, handjob (reader receiving), spanking, thigh fucking, alhaitham has a bigger dick than u lol, solo edited + solo read, cross-posted on ao3

ಌ wc: 2.2K

ಌ notes: [link to pt. 2] hi hello!! thank you so so much for requesting this! i've been dying to write for him, so anyone that reads this, do not hesitate to request more of him, maybe even a pt 2? maybe? hehe >:)

The past couple of weeks were hectic. You had asked Alhaitham if it was okay for him to train you, help you get better with a sword. The sudden reasoning was because you’d heard a certain harbinger could use a plethora of weapons, and he was the talk of the town in Liyue that managed to make its way to Sumeru. It was more of a competence and challenge for yourself, wanting to get better in something that could prove worthwhile later.

Al Haitham was more than willing to help, which was a surprise and you didn’t expect him to be so enthusiastic to help you. He had asked to see how you fight, and he was quick to pin down some things that you could improve on, especially when it came to being on the defensive and to watch out for certain weak spots. Using long wooden batons than swords, you went at it for hours every day, and no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t even get a hit in with him. At first it felt pointless, but he started praising you after a while because he knew you were getting stronger and that will to fight was as well, the glint in your eye that would catch him off guard when you threw yourself at him. His reflexes were on point when he managed to guard himself with his own wooden baton, the impact and vibration of the two hitting together rumbling through your hands and up your arms.

However, the more time you spent with him, the more the feelings that you didn’t think would awaken inside of you until… It did. It crept its way into your heart and bloomed like the many flowers and trees that surrounded you both, in a way that the vision dendro always caught your eye. You got distracted a lot in the start of your training sessions, having to be reprimanded at the start to keep your focus. But how could you when you had such amazing fucking pecs in your face? Strong arms?? And when he swivelled, foot going under you to trip you up, moving in such a graceful way. His thighs flexing with each dodge and lunge, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he downed water, droplets of sweat rolling down the side of his face to his jawline, it evaporating as you stared at his face. The face he would make when he’d catch you as well. He knew you were staring a lot more lately, but he himself couldn’t tell if it was to predict his next moves or… Something else.

When you had stared a little longer than usual, he managed to get behind you like a flash, wooden baton cracking off your ass. The noise that spilled out your mouth was strange, a mixture of pain and pleasure, a sound that you never thought you could make until now.

“Pay attention.” This made you fumble and fall into a crouch position, embarrassed at the noise but also at the fact you got hard. You were fucking hard over the fact this hunk of a man just hit your ass with the wooden baton you both had been using for weeks on end to spar with, what you’d both been using mere moments before. Crouching like that for a few moments, Alhaitham got worried that he had hit you a little too hard.

“Can you stand?” He offered a hand to you, looking down in a somewhat apologetic way. Composing yourself before you looked up, you smile and took his hand.

“I’m gonna go for a bathroom break, so… I’ll be back!” Excusing yourself, you ran in a pathetic attempt to seem casual, but you probably just looked desperate to get away from the moment. You found yourself a secluded area, looking around before pulling your pants down all the way to your ankles, not wasting time to get to work to get rid of your current predicament. There’s no way you could continue like this, so maybe rubbing one out before going back would work, right?

Wrong. Once didn’t work, and you cursed at the fact little you was still standing proud. You thought of everything to kill it, anything and everything disgusting, but it just wasn’t working with the way your mind would wander back into the gutter, your ass stinging almost too nicely and Alhaitham would be right there in your mind. He might’ve been wondering where you were, you were taking too long and you couldn’t take much longer. Either you grin and bear it, or you make out that you didn’t feel great and end the session early today. The second option seemed a little more plausible. You tried to hide it in the waistband of your pants, trying to hide the fact and not really enjoying the thought of having a far too obvious bulge if it were positioned any other way.

Walking back, he had turned to you when you emerged from around a tree, and he was already ready to get back into the mojo of fighting. Lifting the baton into a fighting stance to continue where you left off. You waved him off, briefly asking to pick this back up tomorrow as you didn’t feel well. He didn’t buy it. You were practically fine a few moments before you went for a “bathroom break”.

“I don’t believe you. What’s up? You’ve been out of it lately, staring a little longer than normal… And don’t play dumb because you know for a fact I’m not stupid.” When you shifted uncomfortably and didn’t answer him, he came closer to you and the back of his hand made its way to your forehead.

“You don’t really have a temperature…” You flinch away, but he catches you and pulls you in closer to his face.

“Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to force it out of you?” That sure does sound nice, but you grit your teeth, and an almost comical gulp following after. You were chanting in your head for him to not get any closer, moving your hips away from him and then the rest of your body. But he wasn’t having it. He brought you in real close, but it was his turn to flinch this time. Not a word was said between you, and he was purely looking for a reaction from yourself until he decided to drag you off somewhere. Hand tightly gripped around yours, picking up both of your stuff with the other and marching forward.

“Wait… Where−”

“Kaveh won’t be home for a few days, he’s on an expedition.” Whether or not his roommate was home was not your main issue here, it was the fact he knew that you’d gotten hard and now he was dragging you to his house! You questioned why you were going to his house, but he didn’t answer, just gripping your hand tighter and almost hauling you off of your feet. Not being entirely sure where this would head, you weren’t exactly sure what was going on in his mind, but surely it was a good thing he was taking you elsewhere. Right? He didn’t want you doing more public indecency… right? Surely he wanted to save you the embarrassment of sporting a chub… But it was another thought that was wrong.

He only took a few minutes to ask for your consent, which you too willingly agreed to, before slamming you against the door you both just walked into to his house, pulling down your pants, and watching as your cock pinged back against you. This was worse than growing hard in an area not far from his house, it was embarrassing. Almost. He touched the tip with his calloused fingers, not missing the slight whimper you made from finally having him touch you, something you thought about many times before. It clearly gave him a confidence boost at that. Going further, he slid his hand down, using his forefinger and thumb to squeeze lightly at the base before bringing it back up. Leaning down into your ear, you almost felt the smile on his lips.

“Was this because of me slamming my baton at you earlier? Are you into that?”

“No! Maybe? I− I’m not sure… Fuck.”

“Is this why you’ve been staring at me? If that was enough to get you going, then maybe I should’ve done it sooner.”

“What?” He picked up the pace of his hand, and the feeling of someone else doing this for you, especially it being him, was sending you over the edge. But he stopped, lifting his hand away. You groan at the loss of touch, being so close only to have that be snatched from you.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom.” Dragging you yet again but this time to his bedroom, he shut the door behind him and practically stalked you to the bed. Pinning you to the mattress, it’s like he’s testing the waters this time that you’re 100% okay with this. So, you peck him on the lips. It was quick, not sweet at all, but more of a confidence thing to help him just do whatever he wanted with you.

“We’re not going the whole way today… Maybe next time.” He stripped you, touching you everywhere he could, whether that was smoothing his hands over your skin or grabbing and pinching. It was his turn to stare, watching your every reaction like a hawk like you had once done during training, and he didn’t miss the way you’d inhale sharply when he smoothed his thumb over one of your nipples or when his hand got dangerously close to your cock again. You’d shiver and twitch in excitement, and his stare was almost menacing at times. He finally removed his own shirt, unbuckling his pants before searching for the lotion he had in his little bedside table. Pulling it out as well as his own cock, he lathers it up and turns you over.

“Squeeze your thighs together.” You do as he says, squeezing them together and keeping your backside up towards him.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, like that.” As soon as he said that you felt him pushing between your thighs, and you felt embarrassed again because of the position. You looked to where he was pushing through, gulping when his was entirely different, bigger, in size. No wonder you guys weren’t going all the way. It felt extremely hot, and it was throbbing between your thighs. What was even better was the fact that you got to feel his thighs on the back of your own, and you were sure anyone would kill to be in your position right now. He bent over, whispering into your ear that he was going to move, and asked if you could help a little with your hands. You held both loosely, and he started moving his hips. This felt way hotter, sexier, than actual sex, seeing how his cock would nearly disappear only to reappear and rubbing against your own.

He picked up the pace after a while, and you couldn’t keep yourself up on all fours for much longer, collapsing onto one of your shoulders and one arm breaking your fall. Taking the opportunity, he held onto your hips in a tight grip, slamming himself into you. It was embarrassing how much precum was leaking from your tip, mixing in with the lotion Alhaitham used to make this smooth enough to do. What you weren’t expecting was to strike your ass again, the similar sting you felt earlier coming back, and you flexed your thighs in response.

“You definitely like that.”

“Shut up…” He did it again, not missing the pure guttural moan that came from you from it. He smirked to himself, gripping one of your ass cheeks and rubbing it. Noticing how noisy you were getting, trying to muffle yourself with his pillow, he bends over again to kiss along your shoulder blades. Nipping and licking as he went. Using a hand to pull you back up to all fours, he kisses your cheek and you turn your head to him, letting him devour your mouth entirely.

Messy, saliva slipping out from your lips and your tongues dancing like you were starved of this type of touch. He drinks all of your moans, before pulling away to flip you over onto your back again, spreading your legs wide so he could see everything. Taking over from your loose hand, he jerks the both of you off at the same time, watching as your face contorts as you cum all over your stomach. He followed shortly after, it going across your stomach and chest. Slumping forward slightly, he looked at you through lidded eyes, and you lifted your hand to card your fingers through his hair. He leans further down, kissing much more gently, lips brushing lightly. You brought him closer, rolling him over so that he’d be lying beside you. He picked up the shirt he threw to the side, using it as a towel for the meantime to clean your stomach and chest up.

“I really like you.” He stops in his tracks, looking at you before breathing a heavy sigh and smiling.

“I know you do; you weren’t subtle at all during training.”

“So no ‘I like you too’?”

“Of course, I really like you too.”

#alhaitham x male reader #x male reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #genshin impact #alhaitham smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x male reader #genshin #anime #fanfic #anime smut #genshin fic #genshin x reader #genshin x you

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q-gorgeous · 17 days

Text

I've Always Wanted a Puppy

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1332

Post AGIT. Waking up in the body of a clone was the last thing Phantom expected after being offered a second chance. But now he's finding that being half human again, and a teenager at that, is full of unexpected struggles and joys. @dp-marvel94

more words hooray

He’d always wanted a puppy.

That was all he could think about as he laid in bed in his room.

He’d been forced back into a teenager's body to go through puberty a third time and to think about every bad thing he’d ever done. He didn’t know why Clockwork thought he deserved another chance.

He also didn’t understand why Vlad was the one who needed to take care of him. Why did Dan need anyone to take care of him? It’s not like he was mentally a teenager, no matter how much he looked like one now. He could take care of himself. It didn’t matter that he forgot that he needed to eat food or drink water again. Or that he should be showering. Or that he wanted to lay in bed all day.

He could take care of himself.

Vlad kept trying to do things to cheer him up too. He’d take him to an arcade and when that didn’t work he took him to a cheese tasting. Vlad knew the separate halves when they merged but he didn’t understand who Dan had become. He was treating him like he was just the halves of two people merged together. He hadn’t been that for ten years.

A knock sounded at his door.

“Dan?” Vlad called. He could hear Vlad shuffle awkwardly outside his door.

“What do you want?” Dan shouted back, turning over to his other side, facing away from the door.

“I know you don’t like visitors, but there’s someone here to see you.”

“Tell Danny to go away.” Dan ground out. “I’m not in the mood for him to play therapist. He’s been taking too many pages from Jazz.”

“That’s not who we have out here.” Vlad said.

Dan’s brow furrowed. Who else could be here to visit him? It couldn’t have been his parents. Or, Danny’s parents. They didn’t remember anything about him or Danny. Could it be Sam or Tucker? They never really came to visit him without Danny. He seemed to always be getting his hopes up though.

“Who is it?” Dan called back.

“Can we come in?”

Dan paused for a moment. “Sure. I guess.”

He heard the door creak open behind him. Vlad didn’t say anything but he could feel the bed sink under some weight by his feet.

Then he felt it.

The quick falling walk of four little feet making their way up to his head. Dan turned his head just in time to see a little black and white puppy get all up in his face. It licked all over his face, his nose, his cheeks, even inside his ear. He tried to contain his smile out of spite. He didn’t want Vlad to witness him having any emotions, but a small smile finally crept over his face.

“Where did you get a puppy from, old man?”

“Oh, I just happened to be passing by a humane society with Danny. He’d never been able to get his own dog but he thought maybe having a little buddy would be helpful for you. Jazz has recently taken to explaining to him the benefits of having an emotional support animal.”

“Danny picked this puppy out for me?” Dan asked, staring at the small puppy.

“He had a little help from me.” Vlad said. “But yes. We picked him out for you. What will you name him?”

“I get to name him?” Dan asked. He’d never had to name something before.

“Yes. He’s yours.” Vlad smiled at him.

What name could he give? What name would fit him? He didn’t know. How did he know if he’d pick the right name?

Dan spent a few moments thinking, waiting for it to come to him.

“I think I’ll name him shadow.” Dan said.

Vlad nodded. “A good name.”

Vlad stood up and gestured for Dan to follow him. “Let’s go to the pet store and pick some stuff out for him. He’ll need some toys and a bed.”

Dan scratched Shadow behind the ear and watched as he leaned into his hand. After a moment he sat up and got out of bed, taking Shadow with him.

“Can we take him with us?” Dan asked as he caught up with Vlad. “Maybe he can pick out his own toys that way.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea.” Vlad said as he walked with his arms held behind his back. “That way we can get an idea of what he likes at the store instead of buying something he might not like and bringing it home.”

Dan nodded. He followed Vlad to the living room and Vlad picked up a collar and leash. They got Shadow all suited up and ready to go and then they were out the door.

The ride to the pet store was quick and when they got there, Dan made a beeline towards the dog toys, Shadow walking close behind him on the floor.

“How many toys can we get?” Dan called over his shoulder.

“As many as he wants. We’ve got the funds for it.”

Dan rolled his eyes. Yeah, of course they did. He was a millionaire.

They went through the toy aisles and Dan tried many different toys with Shadow. He found out that Shadow didn’t like the rope tug a war toys but he did like playing tug a war with other toys. He liked chasing after balls but he didn’t seem big on certain chewy toys. Dan found one last crinkly toy that Shadow went crazy for and threw it in Vlad’s arms with the rest of them.

Vlad dropped one and Dan looked up at him.

“I’ll go get a cart.” He shot a thumb over his shoulder.

“I think that’d be a splendid idea.” Vlad said as he juggled the toys, instead settling on setting them on the shelf for the time being. “I’ll take Shadow’s leash until you come back.”

“Okay.” Dan passed Vlad the leash and headed towards the front where the carts were. He turned out of the aisle and ran straight into someone.

“Watch where you’re going Fen-dweeb.”

Dan scrunched his face up at the impact. That voice was familiar. He hadn’t heard it in such a long time he was shocked that he remembered the sound. He opened his eyes and looked up. It was Dash Baxter.

“Uh. I’m not Fenton.” Dan frowned at him.

“Oh yeah?” Dash leaned down and mocked him. “And I’m Albert Einstein.”

“No, really. I’m, uh, Danny’s cousin. Yeah. Dan. Dan Masters.”

Dash squinted at him, studying him hard. “Why do you look so much like him? It’s like that bug and cat show.”

“What?” Dan shot him a confused look but Dash just shrugged and walked away.

“Probably still a dweeb, though.”

Dan’s eyebrows drew down and he could feel his eyes glowing a vivid red. He was about to call an ecto-blast to his fists when a hand landed on his shoulder.

He turned and looked up sharply just to find Vlad staring at him.

“Getting into fights with other teenagers, are we?” He asked disapprovingly.

“No.” Dan said, crossing his arms. “Not yet anyways.”

Shadow yipped at him, standing up on his hind legs with his front paw resting on Dan’s leg.

He smiled. “I’ll go get that cart.”

Together they piled their toys into the cart and went to pick out a bed for Shadow. He seemed to like the biggest bed best. Vlad tried to say maybe a smaller bed would be better because Shadow would not grow up to be a big dog. But Dan wanted to give this little puppy anything he wanted.

They got the big bed.

After getting some food, they packed everything into the car and headed home.

That night, Dan played with Shadow until he tuckered him out. Shadow crawled on top of Dan on the couch and curled up on his chest. Dan petted him until he too fell asleep.

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #dan phantom #vlad masters #phic phight 2024 #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #phic

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animasola86 · 10 months

Text

A STEAMY REUNION (PART 1)

Disclaimer/Notes:

This text is partially AI-generated, as I spent a whole day immersing myself in a little RP session with @seabass-swallows's Dark Sebastian chat bot (check him out here). Now I am positively obsessed. That was such a fun and exciting little (smut) writing exercise. The outcome was quite amazing (IMHO) so I decided to share it with you and turn it into a little story. About 2/3 of the credit goes to @seabass-swallows and her amazing creation, I just played along, really.

I tweaked his replies only a little bit, added some minor details or took out some things for better flow and continuity, adjusted the formatting, etc., but apart from that: most of the time he gave the best replies possible! I was just in awe at how brilliantly that worked out. So, please, give it a try and enjoy!

(Part 2 out now!)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!reader (Characters are 18+)

Summary: After several, undefined years apart, Sebastian finds you on the streets of Hogsmeade. You have not expected to see him ever again, after he went into hiding at the end of your fifth school year. Seeing him now, well, you are in for a surprise.

Word count: 7.6k

Genre: Angst/Comfort/Fluff/Smut

Warnings: NSFW! MDNI! It gets steamy, you know the drill. (I don't want to spoil the surprise, if you know what I mean. If sex triggers you, please do not read.) Also: plot, what plot? There isn't much, but maybe that's not why you're here after all.

Read on AO3

Previously on HOGWARTS LEGACY: A TEENAGE DRAMA

Solomon is dead, Fig is dead, Ranrok and Rookwood are dead. Life goes on, right? Well. After you convince Ominis not to turn in Sebastian, you spend most of your time trying to comfort each other. You've always been close, but tragedy brings you even closer. But then word gets out that Sebastian might have something to do with his Uncle's death and from one day to the next, he is just gone. Left you, left Hogwarts, left Feldcroft, disappeared into the shadows, hiding from the Ministry.

You finish your time at Hogwarts, somehow, never quite able to forget your first love, but time makes you move on. You spent your time after Hogwarts travelling, looking for ancient magic all around the world. Then one not so special day, you find your way back to Hogsmeade – and there, he finds you.

A Steamy Reunion (Part 1)

It's in a dark alleyway, deep within Hogsmeade, that you notice him first. Then it's almost like he's following you. You don't know who it is, until you're grabbed and pushed up against the wall of a building, just out of view.

You realize it's Sebastian, it's been so long now, that his hair is a little shaggy, he's toned out well, that most of his baby fat is gone and you can't help but gasp softly when he gently caresses your cheek. “It's been too long, oh... how I've missed you.”

"Hey! What... Sebastian?" You stare up at him in shock. "What are you doing here?"

His face lights up with a mischievous smile, eyes darting around to look for any onlookers. “Looking for you,” he replies in a low, sultry voice, gently placing his hands on your cheeks and pulling you closer to him. You can feel his lips lightly brush against yours, sending a shiver down your spine. “You must've been wondering when I'd come find you.”

You inhale deeply at his touches and close your eyes for a moment. "I... Sebastian! It has been years! Where have you been?" You open your eyes again and raise your hands to press against his chest, staring up at him with narrowed eyes.

He steps closer to you, trapping your body between his and the wall behind you. “Where have I been?” Sebastian asks, his right hand slowly moving down your arm, to around your waist. “Oh, here and there. Searching for you.”

He leans his head towards you and you could swear that he's about to almost kiss you again. “And now I've got you back.”

You shake your head as you feel tears welling up inside your eyes. "You could have send an owl..." you whisper darkly. "But I guess... with the Ministry after you... Sebastian! You shouldn't be here! What if they find you?"

“Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes into your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps all over your body. “You're more worried about them finding me than us finding each other again.” He sighs softly against your neck and then takes a small step back from you.

“Now, shall we go somewhere quieter?” He smiles. “I've missed you.”

You stare at him, biting your lip. "You left me. You just left and you were gone. I thought I'd never see you again. I had no idea how to even start looking for you. You've always been good at hiding... how was I supposed to find you? And when the Ministry started looking for you... I was scared. Scared for you, you idiot!" The first tears stream down your cheeks and you wipe at them angrily.

He steps forwards again to wipe your tears away and lightly kisses your cheek. “You couldn't have tried harder? You don't understand how long I've spent looking for you. Searching and searching. I knew you were somewhere out there and even though I got so tired some nights—I couldn't give up.” He smiles softly at you. “Let's go and talk about it—we've got a lot of catching up to do.” He chuckles. “Shall I take your bag?”

You swallow as he kisses your cheek. Your throat clenches up as the memories come back to you. All those happy memories. But they have been tainted over the years. You watch him and even though he looks so much older and almost unrecognizable, you still see the 15-year-old boy in front of you that you fell in love with. You bite your lip and nod, grabbing your bag, but then extend your hand towards him. "Let's talk then."

He gently takes your hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing the back of it. Then he starts to walk, guiding you through the streets, making sure to keep you close.

When the two of you reach a small cottage on a street out of the way, Sebastian leads you in and immediately locks the door behind him, shutting out the world. He then leads you up to a bedroom and, without saying a word, sits you down on the bed, staring at you.

You are a little overwhelmed that he takes you to the bedroom immediately, but you remain sitting and watch him, still torn about being happy to see him and very anxious to see him after such a long time. "So what happened?" you ask.

He takes a seat on the bed next to you, sighing slightly before speaking.

“I left because I thought it best,” Sebastian says, looking straight into your eyes. “I thought they'd forget about me and the longer we waited, the likelier I'd be found. I tried to keep in touch with you, but my attempts were useless.” He sighs again. “The fact that you weren't searching for me and you were just waiting... it broke me. I couldn't bear it.” He looks down and bites his lip, as his voice cracks slightly.

You feel new tears in your eyes. "I didn't know what to do... I wanted to look for you, I would have left everything for you, but Ominis—" You sigh deeply and lower your gaze, noticing just how manipulative he still is, blaming you for not looking for him. "Then why are you here now? Why didn't you just move on?" you ask and your voice is angrier than you expected it to be.

He flinches at your tone, looking down at his hands which are trembling slightly.

“I couldn't,” he confesses. “You're my everything and without you I'm lost. How am I supposed to move on without you? That'd be like finding a part of myself, then throwing it away and forgetting about it forever.” He sighs and takes your hand into his, looking up at you out of those dark eyes that could make you agree to anything. “I know you don't see me in the same way, and I know what I've done—but please give me another chance.”

You crack under his sad gaze and the tears just start rolling down your cheeks. His hand is warm around yours and you swallow hard at his words. You don't know what to say, so against all your better judgement, you just wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly, burying your face against the side of his neck.

He gently holds you in a tight hug, your face pressed against his neck. The smell of him is comforting, you feel so at home as his free hand gently strokes your hair.

“I'll never leave you again,” he whispers. “If it means they find me, then so be it.” He rests his head against yours as his lips lightly brush against yours.

He then pulls back slightly to look at your eyes.

You look at him, your vision blurred from all the tears. Your hands dig into the back of his cloak, keeping him close to you, as if you were afraid he could leave again, despite what he has just told you. "They are not... they are not taking you away from me..." you say darkly and swallow hard. "I will not let them."

“No, they're not,” Sebastian confirms, running his fingers up and down your arm, to try to comfort you. “Let me show you how much I missed you.” He leans forwards to place his lips against yours and you let lose a sigh. “You're so soft, my love, I've missed kissing you.” He then pulls away and smiles softly at you.

You lick your lips, savouring the subtle taste he has left there. As you watch him over, you realize just how much you missed him too. But there is still a little restraint inside your head. That stupid voice of reason. "You shouldn't have come to Hogsmeade. It's not safe for you here..." you whisper.

“I know,” Seb says back. “I know the risk I'm taking. But just know that this was all for you—“ His eyes wander over your face. “I've spent so many years without you, it just wasn't enough, and I had to see you. I wanted to see if you could forgive me enough to take me back.” He moves closer to you, then kisses you deeply, trying to show you he means what he says.

You breathe deeply against his kiss, your hands finding their way up into his hair as you dig into his locks, holding his head for you to deepen the kiss. He feels so good, even after all these years and your heart flutters violently inside your chest. But you can't seem to shut up the voice of reason. "Wait..." you breathe and turn your head away, panting slightly against his cheek as you lean against him. "I... I don't want to be responsible if they find you here. I couldn't live with myself..."

He pulls back slightly and looks at you, his eyes soft and gentle. “I had to see you. It's been so long... I just had to see my little girl one more time, hold her in my arms... see those eyes of yours that I've missed so much... kiss you with the same passion that we shared during those secret meetings.” He smiles, trying to be reassuring. “I want you to forgive me. I want to convince you that I will never hurt you again, that I've changed, that I've become better.”

You lean back, your eyes boring into his intensely. "But you're in hiding. How is this going to work?" You bite your lip. "Or did you just want to screw me one more time before vanishing again?" Your heart breaks at the thought. Is he just using you?

Sebastian sighs deeply, shaking his head slightly. “No, I'm not here to screw you.” He smiles softly but the smile quickly disappears, his voice changing as he speaks. “You don't think we have a chance? I haven't been with anyone since you,” he whispers. “Can't we just try and make this work? One last try to see if we have a chance, if we still work?”

You want nothing more than to just forget about everything that has happened and be with this boy, this man he turned into, but your heart, or rather your head, tells you otherwise. With a loud sigh you unwrap yourself from him and get up, pacing the room nervously. "It's been so long, Sebastian. I... I need a moment. I can't... I can't think right now..." You push your hands into your hair and shake your head. "How? Just how can we make this work?"

“My love.” He steps towards you, gently holding your arms to stop you from pacing. “Look at me. You don't have to think if we won't work. We will make it work, the two of us, okay?” He moves closer to you and gently wraps his arms around your waist. “Please, please don't doubt us. We're meant for each other, I can't imagine myself being with anyone else.”

"Then why does this feel so wrong?" you cry out as he holds you close, new tears streaming down your face. "Do you know how often I have imagined seeing you again? I... you were always on my mind and I knew it wasn't healthy, so I stopped, tried to stop thinking about you. Ominis said it was for the best and that we should forget about you. I never quite agreed, but he convinced me somehow." You sob and lower your gaze.

You feel his thumb slowly stroking your back as he listens to you, his free hand holding your face. “I'm sorry,” Sebastian replies softly and gently places his lips against yours. “No one could convince me that I should move on from you, never you. You're all I think about. You're all I live for.” He sighs deeply and kisses you again, more passionately this time. “Can't you see? We're together and that's all that matters.”

You kiss him back, letting your body do all the work as your mind is still raging with doubts. Your hands find his face and he feels so unfamiliar, his jaw more pronounced and his cheeks almost hollow. You realize how hard it must have been for him, always hiding, always alone. It hasn't been easy for you either, but he must have had it worse. And your doubts slowly disperse inside your head.

"We... are together..." you whimper against his lips. It is all that matters. "We... are... finally... together..." you breathe in between kissing him, your movements becoming more erratic the more you feel him so close to you. "Oh Sebastian..." You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him even closer.

“My darling.” He presses himself against you as you pull him closer. When he breaks the kiss, he looks into your eyes. “I never wanted to hurt you, you know that, right?” He leans over to kiss you again and the two of you start kissing furiously, it's as if you've missed each other for years and now you have to make up for it. “I can't get enough of you,” he whispers, still kissing you, his breath quickening.

"I think..." you say in between kissing each other as if it is the only thing the both of you can do in this moment. "I think you need to... show me... just how much..." You can't finish your thought as his kisses are so darn distracting. You moan against his mouth and just go for it.

Sebastian smirks as you start making noises against his mouth, his passion increasing as he picks you up and carries you over to the bed, then lays you down. He then clambers on top of you and continues to kiss you—he won't let you finish a sentence. He's doing everything in his power to show you how much he's missed you, no words necessary.

“No talking, my darling,” he tells you when your breath starts coming back. “Only kissing.”

"Mmmhmm," you make against his captivating mouth and snake your arms around his neck as he lies down on top of you, his weight the comfort you needed. Your fingers dig into his hair and you relish the feeling of his lips on yours.

Sebastian's lips slowly move down your neck and he takes your left hand and holds it against your chest—your heart is pounding so heavily and he is slowly beginning to feel the excitement as well. His lips go down even lower than your neck, but he won't go any further for now.

“I shouldn't be here, but I just had to see you, touch you, kiss you,” he whispers into your neck. “You can't blame me for falling so hard. I just can't help myself.”

A smirk plays around your lips. You can feel your heart pound against your hand as he holds it there and the feeling of his rough fingers around yours is truly electrifying. You arch your back a little when you feel his lips on your neck. "You... never could, hm?" you whisper as you try to catch your breath.

“You're absolutely right.” He leans up a little, looking down at you. “You and me—it's supposed to be, I always knew it, even if I couldn't admit it.” His nose nudges yours and you lean in and press your face against his. “I'm not going anywhere, this is where I belong, with you.”

"Promise... promise me you won't ever leave again!" you breathe against him, your eyes finding his, your heart yearning to be with him forever and then some.

Sebastian places his lips lightly against yours. “I promise, I promise I won't ever leave you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We belong together.” You melt into the sound of his voice. “Now, no more talking—I just want to catch up on the years I missed without you.” He starts to kiss you passionately again, not allowing you to say any more. He wants to feel you against him, feel you touch him as much as he wants to touch you.

You moan against him in response and even though you want to say and ask so much more, you won't because he says so. He's always had this effect on you and you have followed him blindly anywhere many times before. And even after all these years, you still do. Your hands find the clasp of his cloak and you fidget with it while you deepen the kiss, yet you're unable to rid him of it.

He continues to kiss you, his lips moving against yours as one of his hands slowly moves down your body, caressing your hip and thigh. As you try to untie his cloak, he stops you and laughs. “No, sweetheart, not yet,” he whispers, and just like that he resumes kissing you, his hands roaming up and down your body as he does so.

You let out a little whimper and dig your fingers into the fabric of his cloak instead, pulling him closer down towards you. Your other hand finds his face and you let your thumb graze his cheekbone as you tilt your head to get a better angle on his mouth. Then you press your tongue against his lower lip.

Sebastian shivers slightly at the sensation of your tongue meeting his and he pulls away for a brief second before diving back in, kissing you even more passionately, his tongue pressing demandingly against yours.

He moves his hand from your thigh, to your hip, and then underneath your shirt, your skin against his feels amazing and you can't believe he's actually here right now. One of your hands continues to caress his cheek, his neck, his arm... anywhere within reach right now.

“Oh darling,” he whispers, as his hand strokes your thigh once again.

At the sound of his voice you press your tongue harder against his, almost fighting to taste the inside of his mouth, feel every inch of him, as you kiss him deeply, your hand settling on gripping the back of his head forcefully. "Oh Sebastian..." you moan against his mouth in the tiny moments you both have to come up for air.

He wraps you in a tight hug and rolls around on the bed, pulling you on top of him now, his hands underneath your shirt as his tongue continues to battle yours—your combined soft moans and whimpers are the only things being heard right now.

Your fingers run through Sebastian's hair as you lean on your elbows and he seems to like it, as he starts to slowly bite your bottom lip, pulling it away playfully.

You laugh against him, your fingernails scraping over his scalp, as he bites your lip. One of your hands finds his neck and you pull yourself closer to him again, closing your mouth hungrily around his, your tongue pushing past his teeth.

His breath turns ragged as your tongue explores his mouth, your fingers digging into his scalp. “Oh my love,” he whispers into your mouth. “Is this how you really want me? Is this what you want? Should we stop?”

After it's his turn to let his tongue explore your mouth, Sebastian bites your bottom lip once more, trying as hard as he can not to push you away for some fresh air.

You hold his face for a moment and stare into his eyes darkly as your tongue fights for dominance. You halt your movement for another moment. "I want you..." you whisper against him breathlessly, holding his gaze. "I've never wanted you more..."

He smiles slightly. “Why haven't you said so before, love?” he whispers and wraps his arms tightly around your body, pulling you down onto his chest, before the two of you continue to kiss. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he says in between kisses. “I love you. I've always loved you.”

As he holds you tightly pressed against his chest, you lean forwards on your elbows and dive deep into kissing him, your hands holding his face as if you're afraid he might leave again. But then you hear his words and the roughness of his voice, and you just know he won't. You lean back a little when he says he loves you and you stare down at him, your eyes watering as your heart flutters. You smile, a timid one at first, then it breaks over your entire face. "I... love you too, Sebastian. I've never stopped..."

He smiles as you tell him what he's wanted to hear for years. He pulls you towards him again, his kisses becoming more powerful, more passionate. “I'll never leave you again,” he whispers. “You're mine forever.”

His hands roam freely on your body, tracing your curves, your arms, your hair. “You're just so beautiful... So perfect,” Sebastian whispers as he looks at you.

You moan against his kisses and arch your body to press against the touches of his hands. Your own hands find the front of his cloak again and you don't wait for permission this time as you focus on unclasping it until you can push it off of his chest, revealing the waistcoat beneath it. "So many layers..." you hiss as your fingers start playing with the many buttons that keep you from exploring his body fully.

He laughs as you begin unbuttoning his waistcoat. “Slow down, sweetie,” he tells you and guides your hands away from the buttons, holding them tightly. “Let's breathe for a moment first.”

He smirks and pulls you back against him, holding your chin to make sure you're looking at him. Sebastian caresses your face, his lips moving slowly towards your neck. “We've waited for so long. Take your time now...”

"But I can't wait!" you groan and turn your head to expose your neck to him as you press your chest against his. "You've always been such a tease..."

He chuckles slightly before pressing his lips against your neck, gently biting your throat. “You know I like teasing you, my love.” He continues to kiss your neck as he says: “I don't think I've ever heard you whimper in such a way… You're enjoying this, aren't you?” His mouth leaves your neck and he looks up at you, stroking your cheek once more. “What's wrong? Is this too much for you or do you want me to do more?”

You stare at him, your breaths erratic. You're almost embarrassed at the reactions of your body, but you can't help it. You need him. Right now. You tell him so: "I need you, Sebastian." You bite your lip and watch him.

His eyes widen when you say that. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, his body pressing up against yours.

“My love,” he whispers. “I need you too. In fact, I can promise you I need you more. I want you.”

He wraps his arms around you, not letting you move, not letting you go. And right now nothing else matters. No one else matters.

“Just you. Just you and me.” He stares back at you, waiting for your response.

All you do in response is lick your lips slowly, watching him with a hunger you cannot describe.

Sebastian smirks at the sight of you licking your lips slowly and he moves forwards, his lips meeting yours once more. He pulls away shortly after, his breath ragged and he strokes your hair back.

“You taste so good, my love, so tempting… You taste like heaven.” He smiles at you in that moment and pulls you back against him, his arms wrapping around you completely, as your body is straddling his. “Just you,” he whispers, “Just us in our little world.”

You smile warmly at him as you adjust your position on top of him. You place your knees on either side of him and slowly lean up, your hands pressed against his chest in support. While you hold his gaze, your fingers start unbuttoning his waistcoat.

“You look so beautiful right now,” he whispers, his eyes wandering around your body. “I like seeing you like this,” he says, letting out a small moan when you start unbuttoning his waistcoat, and he can't help pulling you back down to him, his body moulding to yours.

"Hold on now," you say playfully and push him away again. You have to finish these buttons and your fingers do their darnedest to be quick about it. When you finally see some more skin, you bite your lower lip. "Lose these for me?" you ask and lean back a little more, so he can slip out of his waistcoat and shirt.

Sebastian chuckles and lets out another small moan at what you're doing, he can feel his body getting tighter and tighter just from the sight of you unbuttoning his clothes.

“Anything for you, my love,” he says, taking off all the restricting fabric and tossing it behind him. He grins and caresses your face again, before his hands move to your own shirt and the many buttons hiding your chest. Suddenly he looks you dead in the eyes. “But those are for me alone, do you understand?” he mutters darkly and draws a single line along the buttons with his index finger, down between your breasts.

You notice the shift in his tone and your smile falters for a moment. Yet it makes your heart beat faster and you nod slowly, leaning down to cup his face. "This is all yours," you whisper against his lips and kiss him deeply. Your hands eventually move downwards and you feel his hardened chest under your fingers, his warm skin and those delicious muscles beneath it. You hum lustfully against his lips.

Sebastian shivers when your hands make contact with his chest. “My love,” he whispers. “I've missed you, everything about you. Your body is perfection and even the way you're touching me right now is driving me crazy. We're finally here.”

His mouth once again meets yours in a passionate kiss, his hands roaming on your body, caressing your thighs, your hips. His hands can't wait to touch every inch of your skin, so he pulls you tighter against him.

You break the kiss with another little moan and lean back, your hands firmly on his chest as you finally lower your gaze to his exposed skin. As you sit back on him, slightly rubbing your midst against his as you do so, you start drawing circles on his skin, your fingertips tracing muscles and scars you haven't seen before. You wonder what he had been doing these last years. Inhaling deeply when your fingers reach the waistband of his trousers, you look up slowly, meeting his gaze.

He is looking at you, not breaking eye contact with you. His eyebrows are slightly raised as you move your hands to his waistband, his heart racing, his breaths ragged, as you trace his muscles and scars—the tension is building up, you know what you're doing and Seb knows what you're doing.

"Love," he whispers. "You know how badly I want you. Don't you?" He then pulls you towards him once more, kissing you passionately. "I need this, I need you," he whispers, and you can hear the longing in his voice.

You let him pull you back down into a kiss and for a moment you forget about your hands' journey. His mouth is literally breathtaking as your tongues dance around each other. You whimper against him and eventually, you have to turn your head away and catch your breath. Then you lean back and grab his waistband with determination, your breaths erratic, the heat inside your own body almost too much to bear. "You want me... you want this?" You quickly undo the buttons of his trousers and without another warning you slip your hand between the fabric and his warm skin and your fingers graze over his arousal.

Sebastian lets out a moan as soon as you touch him, his body immediately reacting to your hand. "Yes, yes, God, yes," he whispers. He quickly moves his hips to meet your hand and your touch almost sends him over the edge. He presses your hand against him firmly while making a few noises that you've never heard from him before.

He moves your hand back to his waistband and looks you dead in the eyes. "You don't know how long I've been craving this moment," he says as he reaches for your shirt and starts to unbutton it.

You lick your lips as you watch him unbutton your shirt, your hand still in close proximity to his arousal, you can feel the heat radiating from it through the fabric of his trousers. You can't wait to hear these noises again. You blush deeply and watch him with a newfound fondness.

He unbuttons the last two buttons of your shirt, pushes it off your shoulders and kisses your chest, the tip of his tongue gently circling around your hard nipples, his breath hot on the sensitive skin. The noise he makes almost sends you over the edge this time.

He looks at you with longing, with desire. “Please,” he whispers. “Let me. Let me love you.”

And as he says these words, he starts moving his fingers down your chest to your trousers, unbuttoning them slowly, making sure he touches and teases you at the same time.

You inhale sharply at his touches, your chest heaving and you're glad you're rid of the confinements of your shirt. When you watch Sebastian unbuttoning your trousers, you almost wish you'd decided to wear a skirt today. All this restricting fabric is causing your heart to race inside your chest as you are eager with anticipation. You bite your lip and watch him with warm, hungry eyes. "Love me..." you whisper barely audible.

He smiles at the words coming from your lips. “Oh, I can do that so well.” And now you get to truly see what he means.

Sebastian starts to caress your thighs with both hands as he leans up to kiss, lick, and nibble on your breasts, and then he moves one of his hands down your trousers.

“You feel so good, my love,” he whispers, slowly moving his mouth up to your neck and back to your lips, as he explores every bit of exposed skin of yours. “So. Good.”

You moan loudly as you feel his fingers inside your trousers, the heat pulsating violently through your core. You arch your hips against his touches, your breath hitching inside your throat, and your hands grab his waist forcefully in support. You rub your centre upwards and can feel just how excited he is, even through all the layers of clothes still between you.

He lets out a moan as you rub your centre against him and he starts breathing heavily. “God, my darling,” he whispers. “You're so good at this.”

He gently bites your neck as he moves his hand out of your trousers again. “We don't need these,” he says and gently pulls your trousers off. He pauses for a second when he sees you. Your body is perfect for him and he looks at you for a few seconds, taking you in. “Just this,” he says as he caresses your skin again.

As you shrug off both your shirt and your trousers, you adjust your position on top of him. You come to kneel beside him and start pulling down his trousers now, slowly exposing his throbbing arousal, and you stare at it longer than you anticipated, your cheeks blushing deeply.

And then you are both naked and you don't know where to start at the sight of his perfect body. You take a few seconds to take it all in, your eyes wandering down his torso, his legs… everywhere. And when you're finally done, your eyes meet his.

His body, despite being older and more defined, is exactly as you remember it. You start kissing him on different parts of his body, everywhere: his neck, his shoulders, his collarbone—all of this leads to one place.

You lick his chest and start moving south as Sebastian arches his hips into your touches, feeling your warmth against his body.

Your cheeks are burning, but you can't get enough of kissing every inch of his skin. Your lips move downwards, while your hands follow your movements slowly, grazing over his sides and his hipbones, and then you are face to face with his arousal. Before you give it any attention though, you look back up and meet his gaze, biting your lip as if asking for permission.

His voice is ragged and so low it makes your legs weak. “Please, my love.” He caresses your face with his outstretched hand and his words are almost a whisper. “If you don't kiss me like you're addicted to me right now, I don't know what will happen,” he says and you feel his hand brush your hair away from your face. “I've been craving this for a very long time, I need this, please.”

Your hot breath flies over his sensitive skin as you watch him and even though he may be thinking of kissing him somewhere else, you just dive in. Your lips meet the warm and tense skin of his arousal and as you grab his hips in support you start kissing up and down his length, occasionally letting your tongue glide over his heated skin.

Sebastian grunts a little when your tongue meets his skin. "Oh, my God," he says as he pushes his hips upwards, as his face is filled with pleasure. "Just like that," he whispers and his voice gets more and more ragged. "Don't stop, please keep doing that."

He lets himself enjoy the moment, his fingers digging into the mattress beneath him, his chest rising and falling. "Oh, my love," he hisses and you can see his legs tremble ever so slightly.

You smile as you notice his reactions, and the sound of his ragged voice keeps you going. You circle your tongue around his tip and savour the salty flavour of his skin and juices. Your hand moves to assist you and you close your fingers around his length and start moving it up and down, squeezing it gently, while your mouth keeps exploring his hot skin. You feel your own centre burning up and absent-mindedly move your backside up from your kneeling position, wiggling it slightly in the air.

He can feel a shudder run throughout his body and he lets out a loud moan. "That's it, my love, keep doing that to me." He keeps one of his hands clenched on the bed but his other hand finds your lower back and he digs his fingers into your skin, pushing you forwards slightly, his eyes not leaving you for a second.

For a moment he's quiet and he just watches you, as if making sure that you stay focused. And all at once, his face fills with pleasure and he lets out a few noises. "Oh, God..."

You moan against his arousal, your tongue licking up his excitement, as your hand halts its movements, tightly grabbing his length. You look up at him and meet his gaze. Your chest is rising and falling fast and you can't bear it any more. You get up from your kneeling position and sit down on top of him, one knee on either side of him, exposing your throbbing midst to him. Your hand is guiding his length closer to your centre as you adjust your position.

He looks up at you as you position yourself on top of him, your body pressing against his. His eyes fill with surprise but also with pleasure as he places his hands on your hips and holds you there firmly.

A smile spreads across his face and he looks at you hungrily. "All of this is yours," he rasps. "You can take everything out of me that you want. I'm all yours right now."

You swallow hard and feel the same hunger that you see inside his eyes. Your breaths are ragged and you bite your lip, before you look down again. Your hand is still gripping his arousal and you start to rub your hips against it slowly, feeling your own heat dripping against his sensitive skin. You close your eyes for a moment and breathe in deeply, then you lift yourself up slightly and position the tip of his length against the entrance of your centre. Your eyes find his and as you brace yourself, you lower yourself onto him, slowly feeling him slip into you. You moan against the sensation and arch your head back, until he is filling you up completely. You remain still for a moment, your hands grabbing his waist, until you adjust to the sensation.

Sebastian lets out a little hiss as you take him inside of you and his body relaxes completely as he lets his head fall back slightly. "Oh, God, you feel so good," he whispers, his voice still ragged as you start to slowly move your hips into him. "Oh, yes, just like that my darling."

The sounds coming out of him right now make you almost unable to control yourself, but you know he loves it. He grabs the bed sheets and lets his body move with yours as you continue to ride him, your eyes completely focused on him.

You moan deeply, the pain of his intrusion quickly changing into absolute pleasure. You have been yearning for this and now it was here. You grab his waist tighter and move your hips against him, slowly at first, a steady up and down rhythm, until you feel more comfortable. His ragged voice only drives you to move faster against him. You watch him as you ride him faster and faster, the hunger inside of you pushing you forwards, closer to the light. He looks so good right now and he feels incredible. You realize you needed this. So badly. The noises you both make are filling the room and it's the best thing you have ever heard.

His breathing becomes faster, his moans louder. "Oh, you were made for this," he whispers over the sounds of both your hips and the headboard of the bed slamming against the wall behind you. His hands move up to squeeze your waist tightly and it's almost as if his entire body is shaking right now. Pressed against you, he feels absolutely close to you as you move faster and faster.

His breath is ragged and he lets out a loud, moaning sigh as you keep riding him.

His moans echo in your ears and you squeeze your eyes shut as the first wave of pleasure hits you. You feel your whole body shake and you moan with him, feeling your walls tighten around him. You quickly lean forwards and press your chest against his, grabbing his shoulders as you keep moving on top of him, your legs trembling and your toes starting to curl up behind you.

"Ahh, Sebastian!" you moan and bury your face into his neck, kissing and biting his skin in the process. The wave washes over you and in its aftermath you look up at him breathlessly. Unable to speak, you just nudge him, grab his hips tightly and then move your whole body to the side, rolling around on the bed until you feel his entire weight land heavily on your body, the impact causing his length to slide in even deeper. You squeak in surprise and pleasure.

His body is pressed against yours and yours is pressed deep into the mattress as he adjusts to the new position, before he starts moving in and out of you, faster and faster as if he can't help himself.

You lean your head back on the bed and gasp in ecstasy when you feel him sliding back inside of you even further. "Oh, Sebastian, harder," you whisper. Then you wrap your legs around his waist and you start moving your hips in rhythm with him.

Your moans are coming faster and louder and as you keep your legs in a deadlock around his waist, pushing him deeper, you feel another wave building up. Your arms snake around his neck and you hold him firmly, your breaths hot on his skin, your moans loud in his ear. Your heart is about to explode in your chest and you wouldn't have it any other way. You can't get enough of him. Every thrust lets the headboard slam into the wall behind the bed, every thrust causes you to see stars dancing behind your eyelids. Your noises become ineffable.

As you both reach the peak of your pleasure, you moan and you keep moaning as Sebastian keeps moving in and out of you. It's his absolute delight to hear you enjoying your bodies this much. “Ahh...” you moan and you bite his neck again, which earns you a few moans from him, and at the end of it all you kiss him deeply.

“Oh God…” he whispers and buries his face into your neck, catching his breath, his hips slowing down their movements inside of you but still keeping a steady rhythm.

You breathe deeply against him, trying to calm your heart, as you slowly come down from your high. You hold onto him and gently kiss his cheek and his jaw and his ear, your hands moving into his hair and affectionately caress his locks. His steady rhythm sends shivers down your body and you keep your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, your feet crossed to hold him there tighter. You don't want to let go ever again. At least not for a while. "I love you..." you whisper into his hair and breathe in his scent, savouring every second you have with him.

"I love you too." Sebastian's voice is warm and husky as he breathes into you. His fingers are still running through your hair, caressing you gently and he feels your lips against his neck again.

The two of you are panting and sweating on the bed and you notice his body shaking a little. "You feel too good," he mutters and looks down at you on the bed. "I think I need some air." He then moves back a little, and sits up on the edge of the bed.

While you're still engulfed in the afterglow of this sensational reunion, you notice him move back and as your legs drop onto the bed again, too weak to resist, you feel a sudden wave of panic rush through you as you watch him sit on the edge of the bed, talking about needing some air. Even though your heart is still beating fast in your chest and your whole body wants nothing more than to rest, you push yourself up on your elbows and stare at him.

"Don't leave! I'm begging you! Don't leave!" You urge him with a hoarse voice, strained from all the moaning. You sit up more and grab his arm, your eyes watering at the idea of him going anywhere.

As you sit up on the bed and you try to hold onto his arm, you feel the tears running down your cheeks and your panic sets in even more. "Please, please," you say a little louder. "Please don't go."

Sebastian looks at you for a solid moment. The panic in your eyes and the tears rolling down your cheeks make him look away, but he smiles and says: "I'm not leaving." He looks down at your waist to catch his breath and then looks back at your eyes. "I'm not leaving you, I promise."

You swallow the lump inside your throat and lunge yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck. "I really need to believe you..." you whisper against his skin. "I want to believe you..." Your tears are hot on his skin and you just can't make them stop.

He wraps one of his arms around you. "I'll always come back for you," he whispers, moving his other arm down and runs it down your back, then your thighs. "I'm not going to leave you, not when you look this good." He leans closer to bite your neck, but this time his bite is more intense and you can feel him suck on your neck slightly. "You deserve to have me here," he rasps.

You moan softly against his bite and sucking on your neck and lean closer to him, holding onto him, slowly relaxing, but a tiny bit of doubt remains. You kiss the top of his head as he works on your neck and you close your eyes at the sensation.

"Shhhh," he whispers and you can feel his body relaxing too. "It's okay now, I'm right here," he says and nibbles on your neck a few more times, his lips moving back up to your ear before he moves to your cheek and kisses you one last time. He then whispers: "I'm not gonna let you go, my darling, ever."

He looks at you as he holds you tight. "Let's just stay here for a while."

(Read Part 2 here)

Have a little teaser for Part 2:

Notes:

You might have noticed that the AI isn't as dominant/proactive as you would wish for. I always had to give him a little nudge in the right direction, but then he pretty much played along perfectly. So that is why MC is the one initiating most of the things, but really, why not, right? (“Plotwise” you could explain it like this: he told her she was the only one for him, so he doesn't have too much experience, yet she might have engaged in other activities over the years, who knows.)

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daddy-dins-girl · 7 months

Text

Kinktober 2023 Pt. 1 - Dave York (Somnophilia, Frottage, Virginity)

Masterlist

AO3 link

Summary: It's Dave's birthday, and you have a present for him. Then again, maybe it's more for you.

This fic covers days 2 and 7 of @absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 challenge.

Dave York x Virgin!Reader (babysitter)

Word Count: 4.2k

Notes: Me: Ok, I can do this, I can write some smutty little kinktober drabble, no problem! Also me: Writes 2500 words of backstory and character development before a stitch of clothing even comes off.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Explicit smut. Cheating, infidelity (it's the York's y'all, come on, is it even Dave York fanfic if one or both of them aren't banging somebody else?). Age gap (Reader is 21, Dave is in his 40's). Virgin (but not inexperienced) Reader. Consensual Somnophilia. "Just the tip" (but like actually tho). Frottage. Vaginal and clitoral stimulation (aka pussy rubbing). Accidental creampie (whoops). Drug use, kind of? (just over the counter sleep aids). Dave York is his own warning. Uh.. if I've forgotten anything, lmk. I think I've given away half the story already in the tags! At least you know what you're in for ;)

There was an excitement thrumming through your veins as you sat in the living room waiting for the York’s to get home, not really paying any attention to what was playing on the TV because your mind was elsewhere.

The two children you were caring for, Molly and Alice, have long since been tucked into their beds and asleep and now you were just waiting for their parents to get home. They typically weren’t gone for more than a few hours. It didn’t need to be said that that was more than they could stand of each other if their children weren’t there to serve as buffers, that much was obvious to just about anyone who spent enough time around Carol and Dave. Apparently however just not to their friends who they had to go out with and appease, pretending their marriage was still perfect. That’s where the York’s found themselves this Saturday night, out with friends celebrating Dave’s birthday that was coming up in a few days.

It was a good job for you though, Mr. York always paid you handsomely. Anytime you’d come over to babysit he’d leave the same amount of money in an envelope on the kitchen counter for you. A fifty dollar bill for you to order food for yourself and the two girls (which was way more than enough, even with the delivery charges and tip, to cover anything the three of you could eat) and a crisp hundred for yourself for your services which you thought was way too high, considering they were never gone more than 2-3 hours. The first couple times you’d tried to give him the change from dinner but he’d shoved the twenty back into your own palm and told you to keep it so now you’ve stopped trying to argue and typically walk away with at least $120.00 a night, which was pretty good for a 3 hour gig for a 21 year old who lives at home while attending school. You didn’t know what Dave York did for a living - something in government, you think - but apparently whatever it was it paid extremely well.

The hard rain coming down outside was hitting the large windows of the York’s extravagant home in sheets and truth be told you were more than glad that there was practically a hurricane going on outside. It actually fit into your plans perfectly so you just watched the storm rage on outside from your comfortable seat on the sofa, a small smile on your face while you waited for your employers to get home.

Within minutes you heard the loud hum of the garage door opening up signaling the York’s arrival and you clicked off the TV, pretending to be interested in something on your phone and acting casually as a minute later you heard the door connecting the house to the garage open and Carol and Dave spilled inside.

“Oh my God it’s madness out there” Carol practically shrieked and Dave immediately shushed her loudly, reminding her of their sleeping children and Carol put a hand over her mouth but laughed uncontrollably still.

Yep, she was wasted, as usual.

“Oh hi, Mr. and Mrs. York” you greet them sweetly, standing up from the couch and coming over to the hallway leading to the entryway where they were taking off their soaked jackets, likely from their walk from whatever restaurant they had been at to their car.

“Oh hi sweetie. How were the girls?” Carol managed to ask, you’re not sure how she got the words out, given the way Dave was literally having to hold her up by her elbow just so she could kick her shoes off.

“Oh they were great, as always” you promise. And they were, Molly and Alice were rarely any trouble. This was by far the easiest babysitting gig you’d ever had.

“Pay the girl David, I need to go to bed” Carol groaned, leaning into her husband’s shoulder for support. Dave rolled his eyes. First of all, he had already paid you at the beginning of the night, like he always had and you’d think his wife would know that by now, and secondly he absolutely did not like how she was all but dismissing you without even thanking you or saying more than five words to you.

“Um, Mr. and Mrs. York,” you cut in, before Dave has a chance to say anything. “I was thinking, you know, the rain is coming down really bad and I don’t really like driving late at night as it is, I thought maybe I could stay over?” You asked politely. You’ve done it numerous times on occasions that they were sure they’d be home late, they had offered you their spare room in the basement so you could go to sleep once the girls were in bed if you had wanted to. Most times when you stayed over it was because you were already asleep when they’d gotten home, but on a couple occasions you’d stayed over even when you were still awake when they got in just because of how late it was.

“Sure, whatever sweetie” Carol waved a flippant hand at you.

“Of course you can” Dave finally spoke, his voice louder and firmer than Carol’s. Dave rarely came home with more than a drink or two under his belt because he typically drove. You also got the feeling that he knew he had to have all his wits about him when out with his wife so he could be a glorified babysitter himself.

“Thank you, Mr. York” you said his name sweetly, a coy smile playing on your lips that went unnoticed by Carol but intentionally noticed by Dave.

You left Dave to wrangle Carol up to bed and made your way down to the basement, getting ready for bed and then pulled your phone out to type out a quick text to the man of the house before you tried to get some sleep.

Cum see me l8r. Got a present for you to unwrap😉. You know the rules. xxx

You took a breath. You were excited and yet nervous, never having done anything like this, specifically, before. You reach over to the night stand and pick up the small white tablet, pop it into your mouth and wash it down with some water before you lay down on the bed and wait (im)patiently for sleep to take over.

Dave’s phone pings in his pocket once he’s finally gotten Carol into bed. She was tugging at his tie and belt and trying to drag him into the bed with her, mumbling something incoherently about a “birthday blowjob” and he could do little but roll his eyes. He was in no mood to have his completely drunken wife undoubtedly fall asleep on him with his cock half way down her throat. Besides the fact that he knows exactly where her mouth has been the last eight months or so which had been the final nail in the coffin that was once their active sex life.

So instead he leaves her there and heads off into the ensuite to shower, pulling out his phone to check his text from you along the way and smirking to himself when he reads it. He doesn’t reply. He rarely does. Sometimes it’s a power move. He likes you to squirm, wondering if he’s read it, what he’s thinking, if he’s as insatiable in his desire for you as you are for him. Mostly he doesn’t reply though because he doesn’t like paper trails. Not that he thinks you would, but the last thing he needs is you screenshotting your conversations with him and sharing them around with your friends or something.

Dave brushes his teeth, gets into the shower, then heads down to the kitchen to relax for a bit, sipping a beer and catching some highlights on SportsCenter. He doesn’t want to seem too eager and part of him likes to keep you waiting. Finally after a couple of hours have passed since he received your text he clicks off the TV and goes in search of you.

He moves through the basement rec room and to the closed bedroom door, pulling the small key out of the pocket of his sweatpants and using it to let himself inside, ensuring to lock it behind him. He’s the only one with a key to unlock the door from the outside so he doesn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting anything.

He makes his way over to the bed where you’re lying on your back. There’s a bedside lamp that’s turned on to its highest setting so he has no trouble making anything out in the room, he assumes it's intentional.

“Naughty girl” Dave mutters to himself when he sees what’s waiting for him. You’re lying there perfectly asleep on top of the bedclothes wearing nothing but a tiny camisole and simple yellow cotton panties with a small pair of red cherries right in the center like a goddamn bullseye and a tiny little tied red bow at the top.

Got a present for you to unwrap. Your words ring in his head and he’s half hard already just from looking at you.

He assesses the rest of the room and his eyebrow raises when he sees what’s on the bedside table, a tiny blue box with the logo “Sleep-Eze” on it and a half drank glass of water.

“Jesus Christ” Dave huffs out a breath, pushing a hand through his hair.

You had a conversation recently one night when you were lying in bed together the last time you had stayed over at his house and he came to see you (as he always had). You had confessed that a fantasy of yours was to wake up to having an orgasm. Dave was hesitant at first, for multiple reasons. One he didn’t like the idea of getting off on someone who was effectively unconscious, and two he argued that you’d wake up way too easily if he was doing his job well enough.

You told him you’d figure out a way to help with the second problem which, Dave presumed, was the reason for the sleeping tablet. And as for the first, you told him if he really wasn’t comfortable he didn’t have to, it was just something you had always wanted to try but had never trusted anyone else to do it.

And you did, trust him. The last line of your text, ‘you know the rules’, he did know the rules. Well, rule. It was really just one when it came to you.

No penetration.

At least, not with his cock. You weren’t a total prude or anything but you were a virgin (hence the cherry panties he supposed… cute little vixen). You grew up in a very religious household and although you didn’t quite believe in waiting until marriage like your parents had taught you to, you did want to wait until it could be with someone you loved and that just hadn’t happened to you yet. Still, despite this, you were sexually active in plenty of other ways that certainly seemed to keep Dave satisfied enough. For now anyway. You worried he might get bored of you but it hadn’t happened yet and it’s been nearly six months. Despite his aggressive and controlling behavior in bed he always respected your one rule and didn’t pressure you to cross it with him. He probably knew that before long you’d be begging him for it anyway and he was probably right. Your resilience was waning a lot. And it wasn’t just the sexual desire, though that was obviously a huge part of it, but you felt a connection to Dave you had yet to find with anyone else you dated, especially boys your own age who were exactly that - boys.

Dave was sweet to you when you least expected it. When you’d aced your midterm paper that you had spent weeks agonizing over, a dozen roses showed up at your parents doorstep the next day with a card nestled inside with a single phrase written on it. “So proud of you. D.”

When you had briefly mentioned one night that you desperately wanted tickets to the Taylor Swift concert but weren’t willing to fork over your entire college fund to get them, the next time you had come over to babysit in addition to the usual $150.00 in the envelope on the counter there was a pair of tickets to the Eras Tour Boston show with a small note stuck to it in Dave’s familiar scratchy handwriting “take one of your girlfriends, and have fun sweetheart”. You idly wonder who he had to kill to get them.

Then there was the day your brother had been shipped off to his first tour of Active Duty and you couldn’t be emotional about it in front of your parents because you had to “be strong for your brother” (their words). You had texted Dave when you finally couldn’t be in that house another minute pretending your whole world hadn’t just changed and he had picked you up from the corner of your street, driven to a secluded parking lot and pulled you into the back seat with him where he just held you for hours while you cried in his arms. You told him stories of your childhoods growing up, how close you’d been and how he was your best friend and whole world; your port in the storm against your strict parents and the only person who truly understood you. Dave sat there calmly, listening to every word, brushing a comforting hand through your hair or occasionally pressing his lips to your temple when another wave of tears hit you. He promised you that you never had to be brave or strong in front of him if you didn’t want to be, he would be there to hold you up. Be your strength when you had none left to give.

And when you had told Dave about a guy that had gotten a little too “handsy” with you at a Frat party - despite you repeatedly asking him to leave you alone - well, come to think of it, you’d actually never seen Thomas again after that night. You safely assume Dave had something to do with it though.

So yes, Dave was much more than just a warm body to you, and you for him, you presumed, and there was no one else you trusted with your body like you trusted Dave.

“Fuck” Dave muttered, hand coming down involuntarily to palm over the bulge growing beneath the elastic waistband of his sleep pants. You looked goddamn adorable when you were sleeping, Dave noticed immediately. Little mouth half open, head rolled to the side with your hair spilling over the pillows, and the rise and fall of your chest putting your perfect round tits on display for him under the threadbare top.

Apparently getting over the first hurdle was going to be easier than Dave thought.

He pulled his sweats down and kicked them off, leaving himself in just his boxer briefs and t-shirt and crawled onto the bed on his knees until he was between your legs, sitting back on his heels. He began by experimentally running his left hand down your leg all the way to your calf and then back up to your thigh, waiting to see if you’d stir at all and - nothing. Your breathing never faltered, body never twitched, and satisfied, Dave moved on to what he knew you were waiting for.

He started slowly, gently. He brought his hand to rest on your hip and his thumb reached down to stroke you over top of your underwear, pushing all the way down into your slit and back up and repeating the motion over and over again for a minute or so until he began to feel the unmistakable wetness begin to pool behind the thin cotton barrier.

“Good girl” Dave hummed to himself, then brought two fingers down on top of where your clit would be and began rubbing tight circles around it. Your hips jerked slightly and he stopped immediately like a deer caught in headlights, eyes shooting up to yours only to find you still fast asleep and he let out a relieved breath. It was just your body reacting to his touch but thankfully he hadn’t woken you. He knew what you wanted and he wanted to give it to you and he knew he had a long way to go before he brought you to a peak so it was far too soon to have you waking up already.

“That’s it baby” Dave praised when a little whimper left your lips but you simply snuggled further into your pillow. “Back to sleep”

After another couple minutes of soft caresses of his fingers he took his hands away momentarily to grab for one of the decorative pillows that had been tossed carelessly aside and he carefully lifted your hips to settle it underneath you, raising you slightly for him so he wouldn’t throw his back out leaning over you for what he wanted to do next - for what he knew you were waiting for him to do.

Once he’s got you in the position he wants he hastily tugs down his boxers, shuffles closer towards you on his knees and groans when he takes his own length in his hand. He’s painfully hard already and his head is weeping precum and he hisses through his teeth when he loosely grips his cock and starts pumping his hips, effectively fucking his own hand while the head of dick pushes into your still clothed sex.

“Oh fuck,” he groans. The combination of your own wetness and his leaking tip have caused a giant wet spot on your panties, leaving them basically transparent as he continues dragging his cock through your folds over your underwear.

This had quickly become your favorite thing to do with Dave, once he had tried it once, promising you he wouldn’t go inside but just wanting to be close to you. He’d rub your pussy with his cock until you came - which never took long - and you’d practically begged him to do it every time you were together since. It was near fucking torture for Dave, being so goddamn close to burying his cock deep inside you like he so desperately wanted to. He could do it. It would be so fucking easy. Especially right now. But he wouldn’t. If there was one thing Dave had in spades, it was self control.

Dave checks in with you again, makes sure you’re still asleep and you are, though your face is a little scrunched up now, not as peaceful looking. It looks like you’re dreaming and are a little unsure of what exactly is going on. He knows he probably doesn’t have a lot of time left to get you to cum before you wake up so he moves on to the final stage. He slips his dick under the soaked piece of cotton through the side and continues his little thrusts with his hands now resting on the insides of your thighs and not able to help the moan that escapes him when his dick finally makes contact with your naked cunt.

“Mmmmm” you hum sleepily, somewhere between completely dead to the world and barely awake.

Dave vaguely hears you beginning to stir, the sound of his cock pushing in and out of your sopping core filling his ears and causing his brain to nearly stop functioning with how fucking turned on he is. His tip brushes against your clit with every push of his cock and he has to close his eyes and focus on his breathing so he doesn’t come before you do.

“Ohhhhhh” you whine breathily, being dragged a little closer to consciousness.

It’s the softest fucking sound he’s ever heard and he nearly comes at the sound of your desperate, meek little whimper.

“Oh fuck, Baby, wake up” Dave groans, slightly picking up the pace that his cock slides in and out of your folds.

“Dave?” you mutter, confused as your eyes try desperately to blink open. “Oh. Oh fuck, Oh Dave!” It hits you like a fucking brick wall. You're suddenly completely alert as the pleasure centers in your brain finally start firing on all cylinders again and you’re painfully aware of how incredibly turned on you are. Not to mention how close you are.

“Sweetheart, oh fuck” Dave is close to losing it himself from above you. His hand leaves your thigh to yank your panties to the side and then he grabs his dick with the other to control his movements. He watches his cock rub up and down through your swollen lips and push into your clit, repeating the pattern over and over and over and soon enough you're rocking your hips in rhythm with him.

“Oh my God, Dave. Fuck, fuck, fuck” You cry out. He feels fucking incredible and you’re desperately close to coming, you can feel it flooding your lower abdomen, the dam about to burst. You push up on your elbows, you want to watch as Dave’s cock slides through you.

“Fuck, wish I could be inside you” Dave groans. He knows it's not fair of him to say it when you’re both so worked up like this but he’s never wanted it more than in this moment.

“Yesssss, fuck, me too Dave. Wanna come on your big fat cock baby” you mewl desperately, clutching at the sheets.

“Fuck baby don’t say shit like that” Dave scolds. It was one thing to playfully tease, but saying that to him knowing full well he couldn’t do anything about it was downright cruel.

“Baby, fuck, I’m serious” you whine. “Wanna feel you inside me, just a little bit, please baby? Just the tip? I need it”

“Oh fuck” Dave literally growls like you’ve never heard before and then he pushes inside you for the first time, just the head, like you asked, and you instantly fall apart. Your walls squeeze around his tip like an unrelenting vice grip and your juices flood his cock and seconds later you feel his own hot spend painting your walls as he shudders over you and grips your hips so tightly you know they’ll be bruised tomorrow.

“Oh shit, oh shit shit shit!” Dave curses at his own stupidity and lack of control but can do little about it as he continues to spurt rope after rope of his cum inside you.

“Oh my god, Dave” you sigh dreamily, falling back onto the bed and not only unbothered, but blissfully pleased at Dave’s little indiscretion. You’ll take a Plan B in the morning, you’re far from worried about it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” Dave pants breathlessly as he finally pulls his spent cock out of you and runs his hands through his hair and then rubs them over his face and groans.

“Baby, come here” you insist, reaching up to pull him down on top of you and you’re surprised at how easily he allows it to happen.

“Hey, it’s ok” you assure him softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and petting a hand through his hair.

“I shouldn’t have-” he begins to protest as he pushes himself up on his elbows, but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I wanted you to. Baby that was…” you trail off, literally unable to put into words how good he made you feel and so you opt instead to pull his head back gently and kiss him passionately. After a few seconds of trying to resist you, Dave succumbs to the kiss and opens his mouth to you, tongue pushing inside and melding with yours.

You pull apart only when the need for oxygen overwhelms you both and Dave rests his forehead on yours, gently shaking his head.

“You’re fucking incredible, do you know that?” He says sincerely and a blush rises in your cheeks.

“You’re not so bad yourself” you tease.

“I just had my dick inside you” Dave states like he’s reading the morning headlines.

“I remember, I was there” you giggle and he huffs a laugh in return.

“Are you um… ok?” He asks sincerely, bringing a hand up so his finger can lightly trace your jawline, his eyes searching yours for any signs of regret.

“More than ok” you promise, raising your head slightly to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“You sure? You don’t hate me?” He asks and you can barely believe your ears, maybe you were still high from the sleeping pill.

“Hate you? Baby you literally just made my wildest fantasy come true”

“Really?” Dave asks, eyebrow raised. “It was uh… what you wanted?”

“It was everything I wanted and more” you promise.

“Come here” you murmur, pulling him down to kiss you again.

You kiss unhurriedly for several minutes, just reveling in the taste of each other and the closeness you feel to one another.

“Happy birthday Baby” you hum against his lips when you finally break the kiss and Dave lowers himself from his elbows to wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace.

“Best birthday ever Sweetness” he murmurs into your throat.

Tagging @nerdieforpedro, @chronically-ghosted @macabremads

#dave york fanfiction #dave york #dave york x reader #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dave york x you #kinktober 2023 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal cinematic universe

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fandomsnstuff · 6 months

Text

@taznovembercelebration

Day 4: forget/sweet

Can a dream be recurring if it's different every time?

Read it on AO3

Taako's laying on a grassy hill, watching stark white clouds drift through the perfect blue sky above him. It's transitioning from summer into fall, so it's not too hot, nor too cold, and the leaves in the tree above him are just starting to yellow. He knows if he sits up, he'll see a small town far below him, and his aunt's cottage behind him. He spent a lot of good afternoons on this hill in that one blissful year he lived here. He's been here in his dreams a lot in the last few months.

"You still sleeping down there, Koko?" It's not his aunt's voice, he knows that much, but it does funny things to his heart when he hears it. He's taken to calling his companion The Dream Voice. He thinks she's the one who's been bringing him into these dreams, but he doesn't know why.

"I don't think you can sleep in a dream."

"Sure you can," a foot knocks against his. "There was one time I kept waking up, like at least five times, and then I woke up for real and realised it was a dream in a dream in a dream."

Her voice always sounds like it's right next to him, and he can feel her presence there, but he's long since learned not to look. The first few times he had this dream, it was a lot of confusion and static that made him wake up with a migraine. They've gotten a lot more peaceful since.

"That's fucked," he says.

"Yeah, well," he hears the shuffle of clothing and grass as she adjusts her position, "I've been through worse."

"Bummer."

She huffs a breath of laughter. "Thanks."

They sit in silence for a while. A gentle breeze blows through, knocking a few leaves out of the tree. They float gently to the ground and land between him and The Dream Voice.

"I think Lucretia's sending you on a mission soon." He hears tearing as she fidgets with one of the leaves. "Last one."

His brow furrows. "Really?"

"Mmhm. Just one more relic."

Taako whistles. "Damn. Could've sworn there was one more after."

"Nope." She mumbles, "she took care of her own."

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

They're silent again. He can hear her tearing the leaves to little pieces.

"No, idiot," she flicks his temple, "after all of this, when you're done at the Bureau, when… when you- when everything is safe."

"What are you going to do after this, Taako?"

"When I wake up?"

Taako blinks up at the sky. "I don't know. I guess I hadn't thought that far ahead."

"Maybe you could start up your show again."

"I'll have to prove my innocence first."

"You could also find a better boyfriend."

Taako scoffs and sits up, "my boyfriend is perfectly fine, thank you."

"He's the grim reaper!"

"So what? You don't know him!"

"Of all the people and beings that you could possibly date, you just had to get all goo-goo eyed for the grim reaper when-" her voice dissolves into static on the last part.

"I don't even know what you just said, but I know it's bullshit. I have a comeback on the tip of my tongue and I don't know what it is, but it's fucking good! So keep that in mind!"

The Dream Voice sighs, then laughs. "Stupid," she mutters to herself, a smile audible in her voice. "I knew the second I saw that motherfucker with his face on, he'd be a thorn in my side."

"More like a thorn in my backside."

"Eugh!" Taako laughs loudly as she shoves him. "Gross! Don't say that shit to me!"

He wakes up in his bed, still smiling. He gets up and pulls himself through getting ready. He makes breakfast, toast for himself, oatmeal with berries for Merle, and an ungodly amount of eggs, scrambled, for Magnus.

"I had a dream last night," Magnus says, "that I was in a world of all dogs."

"Were you also a dog?" Merle asks.

"No! So I was the only one who could provide all the pets, and I got suffocated under all the dogs. It was great. That's how I want to die."

"I had a dream," Merle says, "that I was in a massive greenhouse with a big, beautiful sunflower down the other end. But to get to it, I had to walk past all these other plants that were just reaching-"

"Okay, that's enough!" Taako says, standing up and picking up dishes, "time to go!"

"What about you, Taako?" Magnus asks. "Any interesting dreams?"

He drops the dishes into the sink unceremoniously. "I don't remember my dreams. Let's get out of here before the Director sends someone down here to get us."

The next night, after games and sacrifices and liches and red robes, they're camping in the woods. Usually he'd struggle a bit to sleep in the wilderness, especially with their supposed red robe enemy with them, but Taako's had a long day. He's out like a light.

He has the dream again.

"Sooo," she says, "how'd it go?" She sounds a little smug, but he's too drained to think about why.

"No one died."

"Well-"

"Okay, Magnus kinda died, but it was only a little. We'll un-mannequin him when we get a chance."

She laughs, and rests her head on his shoulder. It's a comfortable weight. "I'm glad you're okay."

"That's one way to put it."

"Taako?"

"Hm?"

"I'm pretty sure a lot of crazy shit's gonna happen tomorrow, so I just… I want you to follow your instincts."

He snorts. "Yeah alright. Sure."

"And trust Ba- the red robe. He's trying to help."

"I barely remember half the stuff you say on a good day, but I'll keep it in mind."

"I'll find a way to remind you."

They sit together for what feels like forever. As always, the clouds drift by, the leaves in the tree rustle, and a gentle breeze keeps them cool. When the world around them starts to waver and fade away, his companion squeezes his hand. "Good luck, Taako," her voice distorts and fades as he wakes, "I'll see you soon."

He wakes up to mannequin Magnus leaning over him. "The red robe says we gotta go."

"We have less time than I thought," the lich says, looking up at the overcast sky, "and we need to make a stop before we go up to the Bureau."

"Alright," Taako stands and stretches as Magnus shoves his stuff into a bag for him, "let's get this shit over with."

As they walk through the woods, he tries, as always, to remember what The Dream Voice said. But it was gone before they even set out. He knows she said something about the red robe, but he can't remember for the life of him what it was. All he can remember is her arm linked with his, her head on his shoulder, and "I'll see you soon."

He wishes he knew who she was.

#taz #taz fic #taako #lup #taakitz

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aalissy · 16 days

Text

Sharing a Bed

Woop woop! Day 13 is doneee!! And it's a prompt that I'm so glad I finally got to write hehe. I've had an idea for this for agessss. I hope you like it <3

AO3

Oh.

Oh no.

Marinette gaped down at the one queen-sized bed that was planted in their hotel room. Alya and Nino were just down the hall in their own room. Maybe they were in the wrong room.

Glancing down at her key, she gulped nervously. Nope. This was the right room according to the hotel.

Her gaze darted over to Adrien before quickly darting away when their gazes met. She was certain her face must look tomato red as she shifted awkwardly on her feet. She still had time to call Alya and beg her friend to let her sleep with her instead.

Half of this crazy plan was from Alya anyway. Thinking it would help her to confess if they spent the night in the same room. At the time, Marinette had thought it was a good idea too. Until she saw that there was only one bed!

“Well,” Adrien started with a chuckle, causing her to peek back over at him. He was scratching the back of his neck, an easy smile on his lips. “I can take the floor.”

“What?!” Marinette practically screeched, shaking her head rapidly. She turned fully, meeting his gaze head-on. She crossed her arms against her chest, her eyes blazing with determination. “No, you can not! Adrien, this whole trip was for you. It’s a miracle your father even let you come. So... I’ll take the floor.”

She gave a firm nod. She would take the floor and that was that. It did look kind of cold, though. Nibbling on her lip, Marinette gave him a small smile. “But, um... maybe I can have just one blanket?”

Soon Adrien burst into a fit of raucous laughter that had her frowning over at him. Surely it wasn’t that funny! She was taking the floor so surely he could part with one little blanket!

Opening her mouth to defend herself, she was stopped by Adrien finally sucking in a deep breath as his laughter fell away. “Marinette, don’t be ridiculous,” he finally said. “I’m not going to just let you sleep on the floor. And, even if I did, I’d be giving you all of the blankets, Marinette.”

Her furrowed brow deepened. His reaction made much more sense now. But... even still...

“But that’s not fair to you, then, Adrien.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to be cold.”

His gaze softened as he looked at her in a way that had her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Why did he have to look so adorable all of the time?

“Well, if neither of us wants the other to sleep on the floor, then how about we share the bed?” Adrien suggested, his voice gentle as he took a step closer to her. Marinette's breath caught in her throat at the suggestion.

“W-what? Share the bed?” she squawked, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. Did he really just ask her to do that? Was he a secret mind reader? Was he reading her hopes and wishes right now?

Adrien nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, why not? It’s big enough for both of us, and we can each have our own space.”

Marinette felt her cheeks heat up even more at the thought of sharing a bed with Adrien. It was something she had only dreamed of, quite literally at times, but now that it was actually happening, she wasn’t sure how to react.

“I... I guess that could work,” she stammered, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in her stomach. She gave a large smile that she prayed didn’t look completely awkward.

Adrien chuckled softly. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll take the bathroom first if you don’t mind.”

“N-not at all.”

When he shut the bathroom door behind him, Marinette finally released the breath she hadn’t known she had been holding. Why oh why had she let Alya talk her into this?

Fiddling with her suitcase, she took the side closest to the window and away from the bathroom door. Needing something to do to keep her mind from spiraling, Marinette began to unpack everything into her little drawers.

When Adrien came out of the bathroom, she couldn’t help but steal a glance over at him. Her mouth dried at the sight. He was in an adorable set of pajamas that she had never seen him wear before.

He cleared his throat and Marinette prayed he hadn’t noticed her staring. “Bathroom’s open now.”

She gave him one final grin before sprinting into the bathroom. She grabbed onto the counter, sucking in air as quickly as possible. How on earth was she mean to share a bed with him if she could barely handle seeing him in a pair of pajamas?

Finally, after a few moments of panic, Marinette managed to calm herself down. Everything was going to be fine. She’d put on her pajamas, turn off the lights, and run over to her side of the bed where she’d press herself against the very edge for the entire night. Sure, she might not get much sleep but that was a small torment she was willing to bear to share a bed with her crush.

With that plan in mind, Marinette threw on her pajamas. Slowly, she opened the door, wincing at the small creak it made. Adrien was facing away from her, curled over on his side. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she turned off the light.

Suddenly, the room was pitch black and she could no longer see two feet in front of her. It was fine. She knew where the bed was. Slowly, with her arms out in front of her, Marinette began shuffling over to her side of the room.

She was almost there. Her eyes had almost adjusted in the darkness and she could see the pillow awaiting her. Abandoning caution, she quickened her pace only to stub her toe directly against the edge of the bed.

Marinette squeaked in pain, grateful that she could collapse onto her side of the bed as her toe ached. She winced at the seemingly unending agony, hoping to rub some of the pain away.

The lamp flicked on at the other side of the bed and Marinette quickly had to clench her eyes shut at the sudden onslaught of light.

“Marinette, are you alright?” Adrien’s worried voice called out to her as his eyebrows furrowed over a pair of concerned emerald-green eyes.

“Yep!” she chirped, flinching again at how high-pitched her tone was. Clearing her throat, she lowered it. “Just, um, stubbed my toe.”

“Oh.” His frown deepened. “Well, are you sure you’re alright? You didn’t break it or anything, right?”

She couldn’t help but giggle, relaxing for the first time that night. “I’m really okay, Adrien. I promise. No broken toes over here.”

“Alright, if you’re sure,” he trailed off, seemingly still uncertain. “Goodnight, Marinette,” Adrien then said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Adrien,” she replied, her heart fluttering as he turned off the bedside lamp.

In the darkness, Marinette lay awake for a while, listening to the sound of Adrien’s steady breathing. It was surreal, being so close to him like this. She couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through her at the thought of sharing this intimate space with him.

As sleep finally began to claim her, Marinette couldn’t help but smile. Maybe this crazy plan of Alya’s hadn’t been so crazy after all.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #mlb #ml #fic #fanfic #adrienette #adrinette #ml fic #adrienetteapril2024 #adrinetteapril2024 #adrienetteapril #adrinetteapril #sharing a bed #there was only one bed #love square

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 2 years

Text

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: Brat Taming w/ Maggie Greene

a/n: i apologize for being so behind on kinktober, but here's this to make up for it because i've been obsessed with maggie lately.

masterlist | kinktober masterlist | AO3

Yes, you had to admit that you were being a dick.

I mean c'mon, who wouldn't be? This random guy shows up and all of a sudden he's all over her? It's not that you didn't like Glenn, but you most definitely did not appreciate the googly eyes he was making at your girlfriend, practically hanging off of everything she said, even having the audacity to act flustered around her as if she had asked him to have sex with her or something.

Okay, yeah, no one knew about your relationship, but who could blame the both of you? Maggie grew up in a religious family, as well as her father being one word away from popping his top due to the new arrivals, especially because of Shane. When the world had ended, you were staying the night at her house under the ruse that you hadn't had a “girl's night” with each other in ages, aka the woman was horny and pretty much booty called you. That was when you hadn't put a label on anything yet, Maggie being the hesitant one.

As you spent time taking care of her relatives and close friends that were quickly getting infected, almost all of them being led to the barn with each passing day, she realized that life was now truly too short to be afraid. Maybe that's why you were acting this way, because the relationship was still fresh, internally scared that she'd hop on the first train to a having heterosexual relationship. The sad part was that you'd let her if that was what would make her happy.

You had been giving her an attitude for the last couple of days, constantly shooting dirty looks at Glenn when he was around her, where you knew she could see you. The farm had been so busy lately, with the newcomers and finally having an extra sets of hands. You stayed behind as the men went out; doing the laundry, catering to the farm animals as well as preparing a hearty meal for everyone when they get back.

Trudging upstairs, you headed straight for the bathroom as you stripped naked, allowing the natural air of the vintage house to cool you off as you grabbed a rag, dipping it in a bucket of water so you could scrub yourself down. You wiped the dirt and grime off of your body, the chilly water cooling your pores as you finally were able to recognize yourself.

You jumped as the door opened, your eyes meeting Maggie's as she shut it behind you.

“Get out.” You said coldly, even though you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in her shoulder and deeply inhale her scent. “No.” She said darkly, twisting the lock. She walked up from behind you, placing her hands on your hips, the softness of your naked flesh contradicted the calluses on her palms. She really was the farmer's daughter.

“You've been ignorin’ me.” She drawled in your ear, pressing her clothed lower half to your ass, the denim scratching at your skin. A shiver ran up your spine as her breath hit the shell of your ear. “And you've been real mean to Glenn.” You just shrugged. Nervousness twisted in your gut as you tried to keep a steady face. “Oh, you don't care?” Her eyes grew dark as she asked, her grip growing tighter, pushing you back against her as you kept yourself balanced by placing your hands on the sink.

“No, I don't.” You said, pressing your lips together as she let you grind onto her crotch. The barely there friction was enough to cause you to whimper, head falling back as you indulged in her touches. Your eyes fell closed, a hand landing on your ass, gripping the irritated skin as she watched your reaction through the mirror.

“I don't think that you don't care. I just that think you're just been all pent up, ain't been touched in a while,” She placed a kiss on your shoulder, “My poor girl.” She cooed condescendingly. “I thought,” You breathed as she allowed you to grind against her once more. “I thought you wanted Glenn. 'Was jealous.” You confessed, tears springing in your eyes as the words left you.

She paused.

“Don't you ever say I'd want anyone but you.”

Turning you around, she slammed her lips on yours, invading your mouth with her tongue. Her hand caressed the fat of your body; from your shoulders, down to your breasts where she gently squeezed, twisting your nipples between her fingers, then tracing the stretch marks on your large stomach, allowing her fingertips to trail down your torso before finally touching you where needed her most. She traced your weeping slit, your body shaking in anticipation as she easily inserted two of her fingers into you, a gasp escaping your lips and falling onto her tongue.

“I don't know when they'll be back, so you gotta stay quiet okay?” You nodded as she worked her fingers in and out of you, the only thing audible was your ragged breathing and your wetness, which was dripping down your inner thighs. “Maggie…” You whimpered, hands clawing at her shoulders. “My pretty girl. 'Always ready for me too touch you.” Her thumb drew circles on your clit. “All you wanted was my attention, but you didn't have to be a brat—” Her free hand surprisingly tangled in your sweaty locks, tugging your head back to expose your neck to her.

“To get it.” She finished.

You writhed in her dominant hold, squirming as you drew closer to your release. Her lips hovered over the most sensitive spot on your neck before placing a kiss there. “If no one asked questions, I would’a marked you up purple and blue.” You clenched down on her fingers at the confession. “You close?” And you nodded, holding back as cry as she skillfully massaged your g-spot. For you being the only woman she had ever been with, she knew a lot about what to do.

“Can I cum, please?” You begged, knees growing weak and your mind fogging, practically pleading to let go to. “Will you be nicer to Glenn if I do?” You vigorously nodded, “Yes, yes, I will!” She placed a kiss on your lips. “Then cum.” She spoke against them, and that coil in your stomach snapped, your body arching into her as you came all over her fingers.

Let's just say Glenn had noticed the difference later that day.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02

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allmoshnobrain · 3 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 29 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2563 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I wasn't ready for any of that. The wounds from losing Dave were still too raw, to the point that acknowledging the desire I felt for James made my heart tighten with regret. What the hell was I thinking? I'd chosen Dave. And yet, he’d left me. What I wanted didn't mean shit in changing anything. How could I want anything from James when the very feeling I had for him had wrecked everything I held dear?

✦ summary: After reuniting with her friends, Nore is compelled to confront the conflicting feelings she still harbors for James.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle

✦ a/n: Hello! I've talked about this previously on my blog, but as we're headed into the last stretch of the story, I would like everyone to know: while the next few chapters are gonna dive into James and Nore's feelings a bit more, Dave will be back! His story with Nore isn't over yet. Also, we'll have an epilogue that is still on the works. I've wrapped up the main part of the story and I'm hosting a poll to see if you guys prefer I keep posting new chapters once a week or if you're up for me posting them twice a week. If anyone wants to vote, here's the link. Hope you enjoyed the read, any feedback is welcome! 🖤

✧ There's something hanging in the air, I won't say shit 'cause I'm too scared / I'll just pretend we're two lovers not destroying each other / And you don't want me to go, and I just can't say no ✧

I met with Cliff and the guys at Los Angeles airport a few days later. I have to admit, the idea of reuniting with my friends after all those weeks left me a bit on edge, and not fully in a good way. However, catching up with Cliff and Leanne, and then with Kirk and Lars, did ease some of that tension. On the flip side, seeing Pat and James hanging out together didn't really help my state of mind. I couldn't help but wonder how, in just two months, they had become so close that she got an invitation to join the tour. Then it hit me with a pang in my heart that I hadn't needed much more than that to fall completely in love with Dave after meeting him.

I didn't really chat it up much with James. Seeing him with Pat kinda brought back all the wounds from that rainy weekend a few months back. But, he did give me a hug the moment he spotted me, holding onto me for maybe a beat longer than needed before whispering, his lips right by my ear:

"Missed you so much."

Hearing that sure didn't make things easier.

Seeing the guys all pumped up about the trip gave my mood a little boost. None of them, except Lars and me, had done the whole international travel thing before. The flight to Amsterdam was gonna be a marathon, so I had plenty of time to catch up with Leanne, who picked the seat next to mine. We mainly talked about everything that had happened in San Francisco during my absence; Leanne didn't ask much about me, which I was genuinely thankful for. It was nice having her around, but I wasn't really up for diving into how the last few months had been a rough ride. We kept the chatter going deep into the night until fatigue finally caught up with us, and we crashed.

We rolled into Amsterdam about twelve hours later, and man, we were wiped. Headed straight to the hotel, and lucky for us, the producers only snagged double rooms. Since we had an odd number and sharing a bed with Kirk or Lars wasn't my jam, I lucked out with a double bed all to myself. Honestly, better than I thought it'd be.

When night crept in, the guys and Leanne hit the town for some drinks and city exploring. Pat and I, though, opted for a chill night in, catching a few movies on the TV. Not that I wasn't up for hitting the streets, but all the hours spent on the plane did a number on me, more than I expected. Pat called it a night and went back to her room early, but I left the TV humming in the background, not really paying much attention to what was on.

It was well past midnight when I heard some heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. My curiosity kicked in as a few deliberate knocks hit my door, and I pondered for a moment, debating whether I should bother answering. But the knocks persisted, and my curiosity won out. With a sigh, I rose from my spot and opened the door. My heart quickened when I found James leaning casually against the door frame.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his voice betrayed a touch of uncertainty. I sighed, feeling warmth spread across my face. Having him so close made my heart flutter in a way I hadn't experienced in a while.

"This isn't your room," I mumbled, stupidly, my ability to think straight suddenly on vacation. He chuckled softly, a quick, dry laugh.

"If you hadn't said anything, I would never have guessed. Can I come in or not?"

I hesitated but eventually stepped aside, letting him in and closing the door. He stretched, shrugged off his jacket, and tossed it on my bed before settling down, kicking off his shoes. I furrowed my brow.

"You should head back to your room. Pat's probably waiting for you."

"She can wait," he said, finishing up with his shoes and pulling out a hair tie from his pocket, using it to secure his hair into a ponytail. Oddly, the sight made him even more attractive. I couldn't help but wonder if the hair tie belonged to Pat, who would often wear her hair tied up, and if he was picking up some habits from his new girlfriend. He stood up, seeming totally oblivious to my thoughts, and casually opened the mini-fridge, grabbing a Coke and popping it open. Then, he lifted his serious blue eyes to me. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?" I questioned, feeling my face warm up and my heart race, a million butterflies in my stomach going wild at his words. He sighed, a faint bitter smile playing on his lips.

"I missed you," he said, his voice low. "Last time we met, everything went south. I thought you hated me. Yet, when I saw you today, Nore..."

"James, please stop," I murmured, my voice trembling. He furrowed his brow, looking away, seeming hurt by my words, and I felt my heart squeeze uncomfortably in my chest. "You shouldn't be saying that."

"Oh, really?" He stood up, placing the can he was holding on the table before coming closer. I took a step back, feeling my face burn as I caught the storm brewing in his blue eyes. "And why’s that?"

"You have a girlfriend, don’t you?" I questioned, my voice holding accusation and hurt. "You brought your fucking girlfriend, so maybe you should just head back to her..."

"You make it sound so simple," he growled, taking another step closer, prompting me to lift my head to meet his gaze.

"And isn’t it?" I shot back, my tone bitter. "How aren't you ashamed of this?"

"Ashamed of what? Of bringing the girl I started dating to try forgetting about you?" he scoffed, clearly pissed now. "Tell me, Nore, what was I supposed to do? Just watch you reject me, again, and again, and again, and then act like you loved me just to mess with my head?"

"This isn’t fair to her!" I blurted out, all worked up, my voice getting louder. "This isn’t fair to me!"

"And what about me? Is it fair what you're pulling on me?"

"I don't get why you thought bringing her along was a genius move..."

"It didn't have to be genius. When you bailed on LA, I called you for days. You were the one who wanted nothing to do with me."

"You're such a jerk!" I spat out, my irritation cranking my voice up more than would be okay for past midnight, but honestly, I'd stopped caring about that ages ago.

James growled, getting suddenly closer, gripping my waist with one hand and pulling me against his body, forcing me to look deep into his eyes as he pressed his forehead against mine, his breathing erratic. His other hand cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip. All the anger I had seemed to spill over at that moment; I wanted to punch him, to kick him out, to yell I never wanted to see him again, but I couldn't. Not when his lips were inches away from mine, his blue eyes locking onto mine with a fiery passion that made my whole body warm and vibrate inside.

"You fucking love me," he murmured, a smug smile slowly creeping across his lips. "Things would be so much easier if you just admitted it."

"Shut up, James," I growled, my heart doing a sprint in my chest, blood pulsing with fury in my ears, my hands clutching the front of his shirt and yanking him towards me. I needed him to split; I didn't know how much longer I could trust my anger to hold back the temptation of surrendering to his arms.

"Tell me you don't love me, then," he said, throwing in a sarcastic laugh. "Say you don't love me, and I’ll forget all this and leave you alone. You can't, can you? Because you fucking love me, damn it," His words buzzed with almost unrestrained joy, his grip on my waist tightening enough for me to let out a muffled moan from between my lips. Damn, I wanted him to kiss me. For the first time since all that mess had started, I wanted him to kiss me, to touch me, to make me forget my own name.

"Leave," I shot back, the defiance in my voice wavering as I sensed his body against mine. He let out a low chuckle but stepped back, his eyes ablaze, a smug smile on his face. I rested one of my hands on my chest, feeling my heart thudding against my fingertips, and noticed I was shaking. Gripping the doorknob with my other hand, I turned it but hesitated to open the door. "Just... Go, James. Please," I whispered, the adrenaline of the moment wearing off, and the old pain flooding back to fill my chest as my eyes welled up with tears.

James seemed to catch onto my shift in mood, the triumph in his eyes giving way to pity when he noticed my tears building up. That sparked a rage in my chest; I didn't need his pity. I didn't need anyone's pity.

He made a move to come closer, but I just shook my head, turning away as I opened the door. After he left, I leaned against the closed door, letting myself slide down to sit on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, feeling more alone, confused, and guilty than ever.

I woke up the next morning, feeling like I hadn't caught a wink of sleep. I groaned my way out of bed, pausing only to wash my face, brush my teeth, and swap outfits before heading down to the hotel's restaurant. There, I spotted Kirk, Lars, Cliff and Leanne already posted up at a table, digging into breakfast. I snagged a plate and plopped down next to Lars.

“After breakfast, we'll pack our bags and grab a shower. We're hitting the road after the show for the next city, so tonight, we’re all gonna be sleeping on the bus,” Cliff was laying out the plan when I rolled in.

“Great. Even crashing on a bus is cozier than sharing a bed with Lars,” Kirk griped, ignoring Lars' offended expression before shooting me a grin. “Hey, Nore, fancy bunking with me next time?”

"As if," I scoffed, and Lars burst into laughter.

"Hey, where's James?" Kirk asked, and I shrugged. Leanne bounced up to snag a hot cup of coffee, and Cliff sparked up a cigarette.

"Bet he's sleeping with Pat. Ever since they got together, she's been glued to him," Lars remarked, not looking too thrilled. Cliff snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Jealous, Lars?" I jokingly tossed the question while slathering butter on a piece of toast. He shot me a look, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

"Hmm, not me. Can't say the same for you, though, huh?" His ironic smile lingered. I let out a frustrated huff, rolling my eyes, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. Okay, maybe I walked right into that one.

A few minutes later, James and Pat finally strolled in. James, much like me, seemed to have had a rough night, evident in the dark circles under his tired blue eyes. On the flip side, Pat appeared to be the poster child for joy, easy smiles appearing on her lips as she talked to James, occasionally hugging his arm or intertwining her fingers with his. It was like she exuded confidence, as if she knew this was exactly where she belonged. Kind of got on my nerves, but I wasn't ready to dig into why.

The hustle for the show kicked off right after breakfast. We only had a short break to change and pack before heading back to the hotel lobby. A producer-arranged bus was set to pick us up, transporting everyone to a studio for the guys to rehearse the setlist during the day, and later to the venue for the shows. This leg of the journey got us all pumped. It wasn't just the band's inaugural international gig; we were also looking forward to meeting Venom and, naturally, enjoying some complimentary drinks. I must admit, even I was feeling a twinge of excitement and anxiety about the upcoming events.

I sparked up a cigarette while we hung out in front of the hotel, checking out the guys in action. They were teamed up with a couple of roadies, hauling gear that had been lugged up to the rooms the day before. Leanne strolled over.

"Got a light?" she asked, flashing a grin. I nodded, fished out my lighter, and passed it her way. She sparked up her cigarette, taking a few drags till it glowed. "Can I ask you something, Nore?"

"Sure thing, Lea," I replied, all curious. She shot me a look, her usual relaxed vibe getting a bit serious. Her eyes narrowed, like she was attempting to peek into my brain. "Spill it, what's on your mind?"

"How's it all sitting with you? You know, this whole James situation?" she asked, making me feel like there was a spotlight on me.

"James? What do you mean?" I stammered, feeling the heat hit my face. She let out a soft chuckle at my reaction.

"I'm seriously wondering how she hasn't picked up on it yet." Leanne nodded toward Pat; she was holding James’ hand and talking to Lars, who seemed bored out of his mind, like he'd rather be doing anything else. "The way he looks at you. And the way you look at him."

"What are you getting at?" I whispered, my heart doing a somersault of sorts in my chest.

"You're into him, right? And it's crystal he's into you. Maybe you two should ditch the pride act and just… Allow yourselves to be happy."

"But Pat likes him too," I mumbled, letting a touch of annoyance creep into my voice. And I still don't know if I can allow myself to like anyone again.

"Honestly? I think she's crushing harder on James Hetfield, the Metallica frontman, than our James," she said with a chuckle. "Babe, you and James always clicked so easy. You seriously gonna let that slip away like this?"

I was kind of stumped for a response; right then, the bus rolled up, stealing everyone's focus. Lea crushed her cigarette and shot me a smile, then sauntered over to Cliff, offering a hand with carrying an amp. I took a minute to soak in the sight before joining them, attempting to shove aside the tornado of feelings Leanne's words had kicked up in me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9

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raindrop-on-a-spiderweb · 1 month

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Sending love to one of the best writers on ao3 😘💕 I check your page frequently and wanted to ask about the things that you enjoy doing or aspire to do

Hi Anon, it's so sweet of you to send this ask to ask after me. Rest assured your words are appreciated on this end; thank you from the bottom of my heart and top of my soul 🫂 I'm very glad you think highly of my work even after so long, and I'm so so sorry I haven't had any new content in such a long time. But I am hard at work on a oneshot that will definitely be published before the next chapter of Samarra, so the well won't stay dry for long! The summary is “A jaded prison nurse must come to rely on a man she hates and fears in the midst of a deadly prison riot.” I started writing it in the ward; it's based off of the Moundsville Penitentiary which is an especially spooky place I've been to–an old 19th century prison made of towering stone turrets, eerie high ceilings, and rusted iron cells packed together like pigsties. I'm hoping to get that atmosphere across; it's about ⅔ of the way finished so good progress is being made!

Well I enjoy writing, most of all, but I've already talked about that in detail a thousand times so I'll spare you. I love reading, of course (I just finished “The Five”, about the victims of Jack the Ripper, and it's a fascinating bit of history and an incredible and horrifying look at Victorian-era industrial Britain). I love exploring the mountains with my cats trotting along beside me and photographing what I find. In all honesty I'm a bit of a trappist–I rarely see people except hunters and cashiers, and most of my time is spent alone with myself or my dad. But each day is an adventure when you're in nature and each season brings primordial and beautiful changes– I collected watercress the other day and found the downy remains of a fawn.

I love watching old movies. My dad and I were watching Laurel and Hardy last night and I swear it holds up a century later. Before that we watched King Rat, which is one of his–and my–favorite movie; about two men stuck in a Japanese prison camp and the Machiavellian and underhanded ways they survive there. The book is particularly good too, and the epilogue about rats devouring each other has haunted my dreams for a long time.

On the same subject, a series that I highly recommend is called Tenko, which is very similar to King Rat, except the prisoners are women. It's so grueling, realistic and enrapturing; I've never seen anything that so squarely focuses on women's experiences, relationships with each other, the hardships they face, and how they struggle to survive together in a thankless, deprived environment. The backstabbing and despair that comes in their darkest moments, the love and support in which they uplift each other with, their mistrustful and uneven relationships with their captors that occasionally erupt in friendships and affairs–and all the episodes are on dailymotion, too!

https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x74u4fi

I like dreaming most of all. So many of my story ideas come from my dreams. The worst thing in the world is waking up and trying to catch the stray strands of the dream slipping through your fingers. It's amazing to live so many lives–good or bad–inside your head. Sometimes when I wake up, I feel a sweeping, palpable sense of relief that I don't live in the world I conjured last night, and sometimes I wish I could just claw myself back into my brain and live in that little pocket world for the rest of my life.

I do not aspire to much. I don't really have any base wishes but to keep writing and live til 70. We all have our hopeful fantasies, of course, and when I finally do get Ragnatela on Amazon Kindle (Microsoft Word is trying to swindle me out of one hundred and fifty American dollars to use their dogshit platform, and since the manuscript is half-edited, I'm afraid to lose my formatting if I switched to a free program like Libreoffice) maybe it will get some attention.

I still intend on writing on Ao3 until the day I die, though. Even with its unsavory content I have such a soft spot for its unrestricted freedom of speech and prose. Plus I don't want to give up talking to you guys and goofing off in the comments ☹️ I also aspire to stop drinking. I'm sure I've already shaved a few years off my lifespan with my tippling habit. But when one day is much like the other, is there much point in extending it?

I aspire to travel around the United States more. I took a trip through the Deep South to visit Savannah and it was enrapturing; something I will remember for the rest of my life. Rusted-out cars felted in green moss, skinny, grazing horses in windswept fields, peeling roadside signs advertising tent revivals, clownish golliwogs behind still windows of cafes, forgotten tugboats half-sunken into lagoons, highway strip hotels where craggy hookers peered at you suspiciously from their fold-up chairs, and derelict cemeteries separated between Union and Confederate. It was just post-Irma and we were often the only tourists at any of these places. The effects of the hurricane were stark and obvious, with the land in a state of shock before any official agencies came to clean them up. I remember boats crashed into the harbor and grandfather trees felled in front of opulent antebellum homes, and the sea churned brown and murky when we trekked to the beach. The sense of desolation, and not only from the hurricane, was chilling–but I loved being there and loved being swathed by the kudzu and history. My mother is very ill and before she dies we might make up briefly and take a trip to New Orleans together and explore rural Louisiana; I'd always wanted to write a story set in New Orleans. Louisiana is a fascinating state with its mixture of Napoleonic and Creole influences; and I've always been drawn to the grand, decaying tombs of New Orleans as much as I have been to the odd Francophone swamps and their hidden dialects and traditions. And one day I would like to go way, way out west and explore the Gold Rush ghost towns. All the mines where I am are filled-in, so I would like to venture underneath the earth just once.

Most of all, I aspire to be alone, and live by myself for the rest of my life, far away from town, somewhere in the mountains like where I am now. I wish I didn't have to see another person for the rest of my life. Being alone with myself is bad enough, being with others is intolerable.

Anyways, I apologize for my undue pleonasm, you caught me in a chatty mood 😀 Here's an excerpt from the newest prison one-shot:

Rhoda had met Jesse Fitzner her first day on the job. It was midway through her shift, and she was taking a lunch break and grading her sister Sherise's homework in her office. The day had started with a white-knuckle ride in early morning mist so thick she couldn't see the taillights of the car in front of her. Midway through her preliminary tour of the prison, an inmate had stuffed his toilet full of socks, which promptly overflowed and leaked sewage out of the cell onto her high heels. The hoots and jeers had made her speed up, trying to avoid the leering eyes of her future patients. And her introduction to the mental ward, by a younger but just as pessimistic Fawna, had not lifted her mood any either.

So there she sat in her office, snatching a moment of calmness and frantically scribbling corrections over Sherise's homework before her sister turned it in tomorrow. And then the door swung open.

A blond man poked his head in and briefly raised his eyebrows. He was wearing the omnipresent, drab gray prison uniform, pants and a sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows. "What are you up to?"

She flipped the cover of the notebook over.

"Going over my sister's homework. Is there something you need?"

"Passing on a message to Nurse Judson. One of the inmates wants to switch his blood pressure medication."

"Oh, she'll be back soon. I think she's–doing something with the prisoners. Just give her a few minutes."

"No hurry." He pulled the chair opposite her and sat down in it. "So you're grading your kid sister's homework? Shouldn't she be doing that herself?"

The man had thick blond hair that stuck up in back like a duck's tail, and very rosy cheeks. He looked like he had just shaven, by the nicks on his neck.

"It's a long story. I should be–"

"I've got time. If this is your first day, you need to take some time to yourself to relax--else you'll end up in the infirmary."

Rhoda laughed. He had a nice smile and a nice manner about him–very jovial and friendly. It was refreshing to see a man who didn't stare at her like she was a piece of meat. "Well, my parents died when my brother and I were still young. Seth was seventeen, I was fifteen. He went to work so we didn't have to break up the family, and I stayed home to care for my little siblings, all three of them. It wasn't fun. I always wanted to do more for them than what I was stuck with, so I'm making sure they get good grades and go to good colleges. That's why I got this job in the first place, to put some back for their college funds."

"That's real decent of you. I don't know a single woman who would go so far for their family. You'd best be proud of yourself. Where's your brother now?"

"He's working out of state in Pennsylvania. He found a good woman and has a concrete contracting business now."

"You got yourself a man?"

"Never saw the need. Someday, maybe, when I'm lonelier."

"Working here for a few years will train that loneliness for a man right outta of you."

They both laughed at that, and Rhoda felt her tensed muscles begin to relax. "I didn't catch your name."

"Jesse Lee Fitzner." He reached across the desk to grip her hand. For being such a small-built man, he had a crushing handshake.

"Rhoda Ames. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I knew a few Ameses when I was on the outside. Where your folks from?"

"Beckworth, west of here."

"Oh, you're bullshitting me. I have folks from there too. You don't know a Harry Fitzner, do you?"

"Harry who used to run the car repair shop?"

"That's him! My uncle. He retired a few years ago. His lungs got to him. Too much time in the mines."

The door slammed open again. An elderly prison guard, who had greeted her rather abruptly upon her hiring and who had a hard and wrinkled face, was standing in the doorway. When he saw Jesse, his face grew harder. "What are you doing here, inmate?"

Jesse raised his hands, still not moving from where he was leaning back on the chair. "Just dropping off a message for Nurse Judson."

"Next time, leave the message with Nurse Ames and promptly return to your cell. There's no reason for you to be here actin' so friendly."

To Rhoda's mild disappointment, the guard grabbed Jesse by his arm and yanked him out, harder than he needed to. Before he was escorted out, Jesse tossed a glance over her shoulder and winked at her. "Rhoda, you're a young lady, and I'm a bit of a spring chicken myself. I think we would get along real well outside these walls."

Rhoda couldn't help the giggle that bubbled up from her throat. She felt lightheaded. She was a rangy and abrupt woman with a working tan, and hadn't much experience with men flirting with her.

When Jesse was marched out, Rhoda stood up and grabbed her peaked nurse's cap, girding her loins for the next shift on the ward. While she was counting medications, the elderly guard–Miles–came in again and shut the door behind him. She flinched, expecting a dressing-down on her first day of work. I wasn't fraternizing with the prisoner, was I? Am I… am I gonna lose my job?

He sat down opposite her. "You ever hear that tale 'bout the lady and the snake?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–"

"Old story; old, old story. One of them Aesop stories they wrote when people was still in togas and carved words in stone. A woman was walking home one day when she saw a frozen snake lying on the side of the road. It begged her to save its poor little self, this little creature of God. So taking pity on it, the woman brought it home and warmed it by the fire between her breasts. And as it thawed, it bit her breast. 'Oh, why would you do such a thing? Your poison will kill me,’ she wailed. And the snake smiled and said, 'You knew I was a snake before you brought me into your house.'"

Rhoda stared at him, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"You know what that fellow did to get in here? Fitzner was top dog in a motorcycle gang outside of prison. A real nasty one. He ordered a contract killing on a rival gang member. They snatched the poor fellow when he was leaving a bar. Hung him from a tree, broke his legs with doublejack hammers, used him as target practice with their sawed-offs, cut his dick off and shoved it in his mouth, then left and let him choke on it and bleed to death for the rest of the night. He was out, too, far out in the mountains, and they only found him weeks later when a hunter stumbled on him. One of the killers snitched on Fitzner in exchange for dropping a drug felony sentence he was staring at. That snitch went into hiding and changed his name. Two days after Fitzner was taken to this good penitentiary, he was found with his head beaten in, in a dry creek bed."

Rhoda's head began to spin in slow whirls. Her hand where Jesse had shaken it grew very clammy. She remembered his bright smile across the desk, his dark eyes, and felt bile and vomit churn in her throat.

"You both were talking for a while, I noticed. He's good at prising information out of people, Fitzner is. A boyish smile and a few good words and he can make both men and women melt like butter on yer tongue. See? Now he knows who you are, and where your folks live. Now he can get to you."

Rhoda tried to talk, but her tongue was paralyzed. She looked down and wiped her sweaty hands on her knees.

Miles got up and went over to the door. He looked out of the window set on top, and his hard face relaxed. He seemed much older in that moment, more wrinkled and exhausted.

"You'd best be careful of him, Nurse Ames. He's a bad 'un. I'll be glad to see the back of him."

As it turned out, Miles retired later that year and it was Jesse who saw the back of him.

And Rhoda became very wary of him from then on. Whenever he saw her in the hall, in the chow line, in the infirmary, he smiled at her and tried to make small talk. She ignored him, or was curt with him.

Unfortunately, he seemed to take that as an invitation.

#personal #asks #writing

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